CIHM 

Microfiche 

Series 

([Monographs) 


ICIVIH 

Collection  de 

microfiches 

(monographies) 


Institute  for  Historical  Microrsproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  da  microraproductions  hiatoriquas 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes  /  Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best  original 
copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this  copy  which 
may  be  bibliographically  mique,  which  may  alter  any  of 
the  images  in  the  reproduction,  or  which  may 
significantly  change  the  usual  method  of  filming  are 
checked  below. 


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El 
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Coloured  cover;;  / 
Couverture  de  couleur 

Covers  damaged  / 
Couverture  endommagSe 

Covers  restored  and/or  laminated  / 
Couverture  restaur^  et/ou  pellicula 

Cover  title  missing  /  Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 

Coloured  maps  /  Cartes  gtegraphlqiws  en  couleur 

Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)  / 
Encfe  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

Coloured  plates  and/or  iliustrattons  / 
Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  nriaterial  / 
RelM  avec  d'autres  documents 

Only  edition  available  / 
Seule  Mition  disponible 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion  along 
interior  margin  /  La  reliure  serr6e  peut  causer  de 
I'ombre  ou  de  la  distorsion  le  long  de  la  marge 
irrtdrleure. 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restorations  may  appear 
within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these  have  been 
omitted  from  filming  / 11  se  peut  que  certaines  pages 
blanches  ajout^es  lors  d'une  restauration 
apparaissent  dans  le  texte.  mais.  lorsqiM  cela  6talt 
possible,  ces  pages  n'ont  pas  i\i  fHnndes. 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  mellteur  exemplaire  qu'il  lui  a 
6\S  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details  de  cet  exem- 
plaire qui  sont  peut-6tre  uniques  du  point  de  vue  bibli- 
ograpMc^e.  qui  peuvent  mocHfler  une  inwge  reprodtrite, 
ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une  modification  dans  la  mMho* 
de  normale  de  filmage  sont  indiquds  ci-dessous. 

I    I  Coloured  pages /PagMde  couleur 

I    I  Pages  damaged/ Pages  endomnnag^ 

□ Pages  restored  and/or  laminated  / 
Pages  re^urtes  et/ou  pelHcuMes 

0 Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed  / 
Pages  dteolor^es,  tachetdes  ou  piqu^ 

I    I  Pages  detached  /  Pages  d6tach^es 

Q[  Showthrough/ Transparence 

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Includes  supplementary  material  / 
Comprend  du  materiel  suppl^mentaire 

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tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to  ensure  the  best 
possible  image  /  Les  pages  totaiement  ou 
partiellement  obscurcies  par  un  feuiliet  d'errata,  une 
pelure,  etc.,  ont  6\6  film^es  k  nouveau  de  fafon  k 
obtenir  la  meilieure  image  possible. 

Opposing  pages  with  varying  colouration  or 
discolourations  are  filmed  twice  to  ensure  the  best 
possible  image  /  Les  pages  s'opposant  ayant  des 
colorations  variables  ou  des  decolorations  sont 
film^es  deux  fois  afin  d'obtenir  la  meilieure  image 
po8Sft)le. 


□ 
□ 


□ 


0Additk>nal  comments  / 
Commentalres  suppMmentaires:      v^r^ous  paging*. 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  cheeked  below  / 

Ce  document  est  film*  au  taux  da  rMuction  tntfqui  ei-deaeeus. 


lOx 

14x 

18x 

22x 

26x 

30x 

1  1  1  1  1  1  1 

1   II   1   1   1  1 

16x  20x  Mx  28x 


Tha  copy  filmad  h«r«  hai  bMn  raproductd  thanks 
to  tha  ganarosity  of  : 


L'axamplaira  filmi  fut  raproduit  grica  A  la 
g4n4rosit*  da: 


Natfoiwl  Library  of  Canada 


Blblfothique  natfonal*  du  Canada 


Tha  images  appaaring  hara  ara  tha  bast  quality 
possibia  considaring  tha  condition  and  lagibility 
of  tha  originsi  copy  and  in  kaaping  wHh  tha 
filming  contract  spacificationa. 


Original  copias  in  printad  papar  eovara  ara  filmad 
baginning  with  tha  front  ertvar  and  anding  on 
tha  last  paga  with  a  printad  or  illustratad  impras- 
sion.  or  tha  back  covar  whan  appropriata.  All 
othar  original  copias  ara  filmad  baginning  en  tha 
first  paga  with  a  printad  or  illustratad  impraa* 
aion,  and  anding  on  tha  last  paga  with  a  printad 
or  iliuatratad  impraaaion. 


Tha  last  racordad  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  tha  symbol  — ^  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  tha  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichavar  applies. 

Mapa.  plates,  chsrts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  ba 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  ara  filmed 
baginning  in  tha  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrste  the 
method: 


Las  images  suivantas  ont  M  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin.  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
do  la  nettet*  da  raxamplaira  film*,  at  an 
conformit*  avac  iaa  conditiona  du  contrat  da 
filmaga. 

Las  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprimis  sont  fllmis  en  commenpant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
darniire  paga  qui  comporta  una  empreinta 
d'imprassion  ou  d'illustration.  soit  par  la  second 
plat,  salon  la  cas.  Tous  las  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  film^s  en  commenpant  par  la 
premiAra  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  tarminant  par 
la  darniira  paga  qui  comporta  una  talla 
amprainta. 

Un  daa  symbolaa  suivants  spparaftra  sur  la 

dsrniAre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole        signifie  "A  SUIVRE ',  le 
symbolo  ▼  signifie  "FIN". 

Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  etre 
filmis  i  des  taux  da  reduction  diff4rents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  ixta 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clich*.  il  est  film*  i  partir 
de  Tangle  supArieur  gauche,  de  gauche  i  droits, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'imagaa  nAcessaira.  Lea  diagrammas  suivants 
illustrant  la  m^thoda. 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

NUaiOCOPV  RISOIUTION  TfST  CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  lEST  CHART  No.  2) 


A    /APPLIED  Inc 


1651  East  Main  SIrecl 
Rocheiter.  Nen  York  14609 
(716)  482  -  0300  -  Phone 
(716)  288  -  5989  -  F<H 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

raw  VO«K  .  BOSTOM  •  CHKAOO  •  DALLAS 
ATLANTA  •  lAM  FXANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  ft  CO..  Limitko 
MWMN  •  MMMT  •  GALCVITA 
MBLMVami 

THl  MACMILLAN  CO.  Or  CANADA,  Lib. 

TOMMflO 


INTRODUCTION 


My  aim  in  this  book  is  to  present  a  true  picture  of  the 
child.  All  other  objects  are  subordinate.  The  philosophical 
aiHi  biological  theories  adopted  are  important  mainly  as  they 
may  serve  to  wiify  the  picture  and  make  its  several  features 
easier  to  remember.  The  practical  conclusions  reached  — 
though,  like  any  conclusions  upon  this  subject,  they  are  im- 
portant if  soimd  —  are  of  secondary  interest :  if  I  have  suc- 
ceeded in  presenting  the  child  as  he  really  is,  and  if  my 
presentation  carries  convicdon,  the  right  practical  con- 
clusions will  be  drawn  by  somebody.  The  presentation  of 
such  correct  likeness  is  the  spedfic  contribution  that  I  have 
tried  to  make. 

A  great  obstacle  in  interpreting  the  child  to  grown  people 
is  that  we  have  no  word  which  stands  for  the  most  im- 
portant factor  in  the  child's  life.  And  the  difficulty^  b  en- 
hanced by  the  fact  that  the  word  which  we  actually  use  to 
designate  this  factor  has  a  significance  almost  diametrically 
opposed  to  the  nature  of  the  thing  itself  and  helps  continually 
to  mislead  us  upon  the  subject.  "Play,"  to  grown  people, 
ngnifies  scnnething  of  secondary  importuice :  it  is  the  word 
for  those  activities  that  must  be  postponed  to  serious  pur^ 
suits  —  that,  except  as  they  may  contribute  to  the  successful 
carrying  on  of  the  latter,  may  be  altogether  omitted  with 
impunity.  "Child's  play,"  especially,  means  whatever  is 
lidtcakHidy  easy.  To  the  diild,  upon  the  other  hand,  play 
is  the  most  important  thing  there  is.  It  is  primar}%  comes 
first  m  interest,  rqweseots  real  lif e ;  it  is  what  all  the  rest 

Til 


INTRODUCTION 

u  for.  It  is  difficult,  making  an  infinite  and  insatiable 
demand  for  power  and  courage.  It  is  authoritative,  re- 
quired,  not  to  be  slighted  without  shame.  Play  is  the 
chUd.^  In  it  he  wreaks  himself.  It  is  the  letting  loose  of 
what  IS  m  hun,  the  active  projection  of  the  force  he  is.  the 
becommg  of  what  he  is  to  be. 

And  not  only  do  we  caU  the  chUd's  dearest  interests  by  a 
name  implying  that  they  are  of  negligible  importance,  but  we 
heighten  the  misunderstanding  by  (very  properly)  calh'rg 
the  same  identical  mterests  when  they  appear  in  grown  people 
by  a  variety  of  high^undmg  names.  -  such  as  work,  art 
science,  patriotism,  idealism,  genius, -that  we  never  thmk 
of  applying  to  chUdren's  play.  For  the  thing  itself,  even  as 
It  appears  m  grown  people,  we  have  no  word,  which  if  we 
had  we  might  extend  to  the  case  of  children  and  so  help 
ourselves  to  an  understanding  of  their  lives. 

In  these  various  ways  we  have  obscured  to  ourselves  the 
truth -m  any  case  difficult  to  perceive  from  our  stand- 
point -  that  children's  play  and  the  highest  expressions  of 
our  grown-up  life  are  in  very  truth  the  same.    I  once  made 
the  statement  that  the  boy  without  a  playground  is  father  to 
the  man  without  a  job.   The  truth  is  more  than  that,  -  the 
boy  without  a  playground  u  the  man  without  a  job.  He  is 
suffering  identically  the  same  loss:  the  absence  from  his 
life  of  the  chief  means  of  livmg,  the  cutting  of  the  main 
^wid  of  his  existence.   Play  is  to  the  boy  what  work  is  to 
the  inan-the  fullest  attainable  expression  of  what  he  is 
and  the  effective  means  of  becommg  more.   And  in  the  case 
of  the  best  work  the  expression  is  of  the  same  instincts; 
the  two  are  identical  -  the  voice  of  the  same  river  though  at 
different  points  on  its  course.   There  is.  it  is  true,  if  our 
^>lQgiciU  theories  are  correct,  the  difference  that  while 
the  Iran  8  work  only  sustains  life,  the  child's  play  creates 


INTRODUCTION 


ix 


it ;  but  that  is  not  a  difference  which  justifies  our  rqpuding 
play  as  a  thing  of  inferior  importance. 

This  looking  upon  the  same  word  and  the  all-important 
interests  which  it  stands  for  from  opposite  sides  by  parent 
and  child,  master  and  pupil,  the  world  of  childhood  and  the 
grown-up  world,  respectively,  constitutes  an  almost  impas- 
sable barrier  between  the  two,  a  barrier  that  but  few  grown 
people  (Froebel,  Stevenson,  and  half  a  dozen  others)  have 
—  not  crossed,  but  peeped  over  and  reported  what  they 
saw.  It  is  the  existence  of  this  barrier  that  constitutes  not 
only  the  difficulty,  but  the  need  of  interpretation,  and  justi- 
fies any  earnest  attempt  to  lessen  in  however  slight  degree 
the  resulting  misunderstanding  between  each  generation  of 
children  and  those  who  control  their  education  and  their 
lives. 

It  is  true  that  I  myself  throughout  this  book  use  this  same 
word  to  which  I  find  so  much  objection.  I  do  so,  first, 
because  there  is  no  other  word,  and  second,  because  as  we  are 
certam  to  keep  on  using  this  word  to  designate  our  children's 
most  important  interests,  I  want  to  do  what  I  can  to  raise 
it  to  its  true  dignity,  and  make  it  mean,  for  however  few, 
something  of  what  it  must  mean  to  us  if  we  are  ever  to 
understand  our  own  children  or  be  of  much  help  in  their 
development. 

I  have  not  m  thn  book  dbcussed  the  general  rations  d 

instinct  to  reason.  To  prevent  a  misunderstanding  it  may 
be  well  to  say  that  I  do  not  set  up  instinct  against  reason 
either  as  a  rival  or  as  a  substitute.  Their  functions  are 
different  and  supplementary.  Within  its  own  sphere  noth- 
ing can  abrogate  the  authority  <rf  reason  except  reason  it- 
self. The  supremacy  oil  reason  is  assumed  in  the  act  ctf 
thought.  We  must  in  order  to  think  at  all  have  faith  in 
the  intellectual  integrity  of  the  univene,  its  conmumoe 


»  INTRODUCmON 

tt!ll,  thought. -faith  in  the  persistence  of 

truth,  m  the  continued  authority  of  our  moments  of  vision, 
and  m  the  imphcations  of  the  truth  we  know 

But  morality  and  reason  alone  furnish  no  guide  to  con- 
duct    They  tell  us  to  follow  the  good  and  the  true,  but 
they  do  not  tell  us  what  these  are.    To  know  that  we 
ought  to  seek  the  good,  even  that  we  ought  to  promote  the 
good  will  in  ourselves  and  others,  is  not  enough.    We  can- 
not seek  the  good  unless  it  first  exists.    Some  ends  must 
be.  mdependent  of  our  seeking  them,  better  than  others,  or 
there  could  be  no  moral  choice.    And  there  must  be  some 
power  m  us  to  recognize,  however  dimly,  where  the  good 
lies.    A  compass  cannot  point  north  unless  there  is  a  north 
nor  unless  it  has  in  itself  some  relation  to  it. 

Reason  as  related  to  instir  t  acts  mainly  in  the  following 

rZLjL   r*^^  ^^'""^  discovering 
practical  methods  for  their  satisfaction.    Secondlv  (per- 
ha^  an  exter^ion  of  the  first),  it  calls  up  the  abselit  fact, 
-the  fact  which  IS  beyond  immediate  perception  and  is 
Wn  either  by  inference  or  by  a  memory  so  dimly  active 
that  the  fact  itself  is  not  truly  present,  is  not  felt  but  only 
mteUectually  acknowledged,  and  so  does  not  appeal  imm^- 
diately  to  instinct.    It  testifies  for  the  more  remote  expe- 
rience, for  the  past  insight,  the  future  reawakening.  Z 
effects  upon  other  people.    It  brings  the  absent  fact  before 
the  court.   Herein  reason  serves  the  instincts  by  present- 
ing to  thm  the  real  effects  of  contemplated  action  and 
enabling  them  to  truly  serve  themselves. 

Thirdly,  reason,  as  conscience,  acts  for  the  absent  mo- 
tive cites  the  rulings  of  some  higher  instinct  or  of  one  more 
authoritative  in  the  premises  as  against  the  present,  lower 
or  tas  applicable  ones,  -  admonishing  the  voluptuary  of 
the  existence  of  true  teve.  the  decadent  artist  of  a  brighter 


INTRODUCTION 


xi 


vision,  the  trifler  of  his  true  vocation.  This  case  is  the 
converse  of  the  one  just  cited.  Here  reason  brings  the 
decbions  oi  the  court  to  beftr  upon  the  facts,  as  there  it 
haled  the  facts  before  the  court. 

It  is  true  that  in  one  sense  there  is  a  conflict  between 
instinct  and  reason.  The  intellect  may  be  superserviceable 
in  bringing  before  us  more  facts  than  we  can  handle,  until 
we  lose  our  sense  ct  direction,  becon^p  coirfused,  and  are 
incapable  ci  a  true  decbion.  The  court  has  adjourned 
before  the  mass  of  witnesses  can  be  heard.  Also  we  can 
in  one  sense  be  too  conscientious.  We  cannot  too  well 
obey  the  commands  of  conscience  present  and  speaking, 
but  we  can  too  anxiously  search  for  possible  higher  points 
€i  view  until  the  time  for  sfHrited  action  has  gone  by. 
There  are  times  when  it  is  better  to  trust  such  part  ol  us 
as  is  present  on  the  ground  than  try  to  conjure  up  our 
absent  though  possibly  better  self.  But  I  have  not  in  this 
book  intended  to  exalt  the  more  instinctive  above  the  more 
reasoned  or  mme  conscientious  method,  or  to  exptfss  any 
opinion  as  to  the  proper  balance  between  the  two. 

There  is  the  further  question  of  what  It  is  that  bids  us 
use  our  reason  or  admonishes  us  when  anc  how  f«>r  to  use 
it.  Not  reason  itself,  apparently:  it  is  not  always  there 
unless  it  has  been  called.  And  when  it  comes,  it  only 
states  the  case  without  decidmg  it.  What  is  it  in  us  that 
passes  upon  the  facts  which  reason  cites  and  which  we 
have  supposed  too  pale  to  call  the  instincts  into  play,  or 
that  m  the  presence  of  blazing  fact,  only  too  plainly  felt, 
spMks  fw  the  absent  hi^er  instinct?  Hiis  something 
that  seems  to  have  jurisdiction  over  reason  itsetf,  to  call 
it  into  action  and  to  appraise  its  testimony,  is  part^ 
perhaps  the  pale  reflection  of  ti  e  instiuct  which  we  have 
called  absent   Partly  it  is  the  instinct  ci  self-assertion  or. 


»»  INTRODUCTION 

as  some  wouW  caU  it,  of  self-surrender,  —  a  sort  of  instinct 
of  instincts,  whose  function  is  to  keep  in  mind  our  true 
direction,  to  remember  the  word  that  was  given  us  to  say 
and  impel  us  to  its  utterance.  Partly  it  is  the  fightmg  in- 
stinct enlisted  in  behalf  of  this  permanent  and  higher  self. 
Tn  any  event  it  must  apparently  be  instinctive  in  its  nature 
if  it  is  there  at  all  as  a  constant  influence  of  any  sort. 
If  indeed  there  is  such  a  thing  as  free  will,  in  that  case 
decision  is  a  new  creative  act,  uncaused  by  instinct  or  by 
any  other  thing. 

It  is  unpossible  m  dealing  with  any  such  unportant  subject 
as  education  to  make  fuU  acknowledgment  of  the  sources 
from  which  one's  ideas  have  been  derived.  I  have  in  general 
followed  Froebel  as  to  the  main  characteristics  of  the  suc- 
cessive stages  of  growth,  up  to  and  including  the  Big  Injun 
age,  and  also  in  the  analysis  of  the  sense  of  membership 
which  characterizes  the  succeeding  period.  Gulick  was  the 
first,  so  far  as  I  know,  to  arrange  the  plays  of  children  defi- 
nitely according  to  age  periods.  From  him  and  from 
George  E.  Johnson  the  whole  subject  has  received  much 
uiumination,  from  which,  with  all  others  interested,  I  have 
profited.  The  biological  theory  of  play  adopted  is  that  of 
Herr  Groos,  as  stated  in  the  text. 

In  the  arrangement  of  the  book  I  have  foUowed  upon 
the  whole  the  order  of  growth,  teUing  the  story  rather  by 
ages  than  by  subjects,  but  have  occasionally  departed  from 
that  order  when  the  expression  of  a  particular  play  instinct 
seemed  so  far  identified  with  a  particular  age  period  as  to 
make  its  treatment  under  that  period  alone  the  most  con- 
venient method.  I  have  also  stated  a  good  deal  of  the 
theory  of  play,  and  some  of  my  conclusions  as  to  its  place 
and  value,  at  the  beginning.  But  in  general  I  have  fol- 
lowed the  dramatic  mder. 


DEFINITIONS 


I  HAVB  not  mnoh  confidence  in  definitions.   If  I  could 

say  in  three  lines  what  I  mean  by  play,  for  instance,  tho 
rest  of  this  book  would  be  unnecessary.  The  following, 
however,  are  submitted  as  preliminary  indications  of  the 
■enae  in  which  certain  words  will  be  used. 

Impulie:  an  internal  prompting  to  conscious  action  of 
some  special  kind  —  conscious  as  distinguished  from  re- 
flex, not  necessarily  implying  purpose. 

£utmet:  an  innate  tendency  toward  conscious  action  of 
some  special  kind  or  toward  some  specinl  end,  resulting 
m  frequent  impulses  toward  such  action. 

ffabit:  an  individually  acquired  tendency  tt  a  special 
form  of  action.  (Once  acquired  it  differs  from  instinct 
only  when,  as  is  often  the  case,  it  prescribes  unconscious, 
reflex  action  or  the  form  of  the  action  rather  than  its  end 
or  than  the  action  as  a  whole.) 

Play  inttinet:  an  instinct  not  toward  a  physical  satis- 
faction nor  toward  the  avoidance  of  pain ;  an  instinct 
toward  an  ideal. 

J'laif:  action  in  fulfillment  of  a  play  instinct. 

Hunger:  an  instinct  toward  a  physical  satisfaction. 
(Sometimes  also  the  pain  of  lacking  a  physical  satis- 
faction.) 

Work :  consciously  directed  activity  by  which  one  makes 
good  as  a  member  of  society. 

^dgery:  activity  not  in  satisfaction  of  the  instincts. 

Natwre:  metaphor  for  the  cause,  real  or  assured,  of 
observed  phenomena. 

Purpose  of  nature:  metaphor  for  the  purpose  attribu- 
table to  such  cause. 

siii 


TABLE  OP  CONTENTS 


Iktbodcctiox 


BOOK  L  PLAY  IS  OBOWTH 

A.  FUNCTION  OP  THE  PLAY  INSTINCTS 

Chaptbr  I.  Plat  is  Serious  

Play  the  moat  aerious  thing  to  th«  ehiU— Imdm  ita 
MtprKM  ediwatioiwl  importance. 

Chaptu  n.  PtAY  IS  Gbowtb  

Play  instincts  prasoribe  aetton,  action  indneea  growth. 

Chapter  III.  Play  trains  for  Life  

The  play  instiuots  are  those  which  gorwa  lifa— tha 
cosatitatiiig  iiutincta. 

CBAFTSB  IV.    PtAT  Ain>  TBB  HVMOKBS  .... 

Play  is  the  expression  of  the  achieving  instincta  These 
include:  (1)  the  main  directing  instincts,  (2)  the  instincte 
ancillary  to  these,  (8)  the  trmporaiy,  and  (4)  the  hwger, 
molusive,  instincts^  Doaa  not  inefaida  aznnssioa  of  the 
hungers. 

CRAirm  V.  Place  a»d  Limitations  of  Gbowth  thbouoh 
Play  

Physical  limitations — the  body,  the  reflexes. 

Play  releases  growth,  forms  the  acquired  reflexes,  and 
shapes  mind  and  body  within  prescribed  Umitatioiis.  Gen- 
erality of  the  human  instincts  Ie»T«a  ehoiea  of  action  and 
of  growth. 

CHArTBB  VI.    AoTAITTAOBg  OF  BEINO  A  PlAT-BCILT  ^IHIMAL 

I.  The  possession  of  a  more  unfinished  nature,  supple, 
mented  through  pUy  by  %  second  naton  admlMl  to  aetoal 
conditions. 

XT 


pAoa 

vii 


18 


I» 


26 


xvi 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 


a.  Day«h^nt  ot  ta  adapting  plant  or  mind  to  direot 
the  play  aotivitiat  throngh  whieh  thia  aaoond  natu*  ia 

built  up. 

£.   CERTAIN  RKLATIONS  OF  PLAY 

CRArrtB  Vn.  Play  and  Tbaciiino  

Teaching  implied  in  the  play  inatineto,  neeeuaiy  to  the 
transmission  of  our  social  inheritance  in  play.  Neoeamy 
also  oatside  of  play  but  should  never  supersede  it. 

Chaptrr  VIII.  Plat  amd  Ovmnastics  

Gymnastics  not  play.  Their  shallow  aotiritiea  impair 
unity  of  growth.   Useful  for  correotire  pwpoaea. 

Chaj'ter  IX.  Play  and  Work  

Work  the  falfillment  of  the  play  instincts,  the  highest 
form  of  play.  Play  the  most  serious  element  in  wwrk. 
Work  may  be  drudgery  except  that  it  alwaja  ezpreeeea  tha 
team  sense. 

C.  SUPPLEMENTABT 
Chapter  X.   Evidence  that  Plat  is  Growth  . 

Growth  follows  the  direction  of  play  and  in  its  order— ia 
atunted  where  play  is  abaent  Play  doea  not  wait  for  but 
precedes  the  powen  that  it  tzaiaa. 

BOOK  II.    THE  BAi^iT  AGE 
From  one  to  tkre« 
A.  INTRODUCTOBY 
Chaptkr  XI.  The  Foob  Aoes  of  Childhood  . 

Uabyhood,  from  one  to  three  —  dramatic  age,  from  three 
to  six  —  Big  Injun  age,  from  six  to  eleven  — age  of  Loyalty, 
from  eleven  on.   The  first  two  the  same  for  boys  and  girls 
—  the  third  much  ths  same  — tlie  fourth  different. 
Theory  of  reoapitoktion  —  its  minor  importance  for  us. 
Carpe  </t«m— necestity  for  timeliness  in  education. 
Chapter  XII.   Why  Grown-ups  do  not  Understand 

What  ia  hard-won  advance  to  the  child  is  review  and 
relaxation  to  the  grown-up.  Meeting  tin  old  form  under 
the  new  spirit  deceives  the  latter. 


TABLE  OF  CX)NTENTB 


B.  DESCRIPTION  OP  THIS  AOl 

MM 

(This  MMi  MbMqarat  descriptive  cbapten  u«  intended 
to  present  a  portrait  not »  photograph,  and  therefoie  include 
the  element  of  iotefprttation  ae  well  at  that  of  reporting.) 

CHAma  xm.  Momm  Plat  74 

The  child  a  social  being  from  the  start,  the  mother  his 
liret  world.  The  father— his  maternal  instinct  Impor- 
tanee  of  physical  eontMt  Language.  Child's  social  powers 
not  unlimited  —  the  eloistenl  desire. 

Chaptib  XIV.  Maitipolatiox  84 

Hand  the  organ  of  thought  and  action  as  well  as  of  feel- 
ing. Man  the  oreatnre  of  the  hand  — the  child  built  op 
around  it  Graq^,  wielding,  and  striking.  Tools  and 
weapons.  The  tool  a  part  of  the  person.  Handling  and 
control. 

CBAPTBR  XV.    CONBTBCCTION  95 

The  first  cake.  Pies  —  blocks — sand.  Creative  impulse 
—  building  in  music,  '^W8,  in8titation%  hypotheses^  more* 
ment  To  do  is  to  make— imp(»taaea  of  ite  initiaotif* 
manual  form. 

ClArTBB  XVI    CBBKHHO,  WAlxnO,  AXD  BALAVOim        .  108 

Locomotion  precedes  walking.  Child  inrents  bif  mrthod. 
Walking — balancing. 


BOOK  m.  THE  DBAMATIC  AGE 
fVoM  fftres  to  «w 

Chapter  XVTf.   Impersonation  107 

Impersonation  not  showing  of.  not  dramatics,  bat  a 
method  of  understanding.  Sees  things  as  liring  wholes 
and  gets  inside  to  see  how  it  feels.  Not  literal  nor  imita- 
tire  of  externals.  Symbolism.  Robust  transforming  power. 
Helps  to  imaginatioo.  Importanes  o<  thto  teaiaing. 

CaArrxR  XVIII.   Subjects  of  Impersonation  .      .  HI 

Surroundings  important  but  not  decisive.  Sex  prefer- 
ences —  free  creation — the  imaginary  playmate.  The  ehild 
builds  his  world  according  to  his  instinctive  interests,  which 
indicate  the  directions  of  his  growth.  Doll^  hones^  sol- 
diers,  houses,  animals,  fairies,  giants. 


xm  TABLE  OF  OONTENTB 


CuAfTK*  XIX  Social  Play  or  mm  Dsamatw  Aob      .  Ml 

Child  ud  tMBiJjr  oomlAtive.  Subordiutioo  to  »  KMial' 
whoto.  RtlstioiM  of  bom*  to  doctor,  fannw,  OMpwitar. 

Society  of  contemporariei  — importance  to  Iht  HmwiwB 
fl*!^*                        kindergarten.    The  ring 
fMM — pmomttty  ol  the  ring.   Member«hip  inatinetiva. 
CvAmft  XX.  BnTBM  J4J 

In  round  gamen  — in  teaeiiifj.  Precedeg  the  dramaito 
age  —  the  pat-a-cake  garnet  —  aiiigMng  —  Mother  GooM— 
riiyme  and  reason. 

Swinging,  imagination  -  tha  Altanwttiiff  tMkm. 
Bhythm  tha  pwmt  of  the  arte. 

CuAnm  XXI.  Rhtthm  and  Lin  153 

The  carrying  power  of  rhythm  —  ita  hypnotic  affeot 
A  meaaure  of  time— element  in  akiU,  in  aocial  power, 
la  eoAperation.  Orgy— war  dwioa— religion  — aocial  fu- 
■ion  and  achievement.  Mnale  and  gjmoMliaa— MUton— 
German  nationality. 


BOOK  IV.   THE  BIG  INJUN  A02 
From  six  to  eleven 
A.  DESCRIPTIVE 
Cbaptbi     ill.  Th«  HuKQut  roB  Bbautt  im 
DI«ii.uaioii,aterility,niiieWef.    Tha  hunger  for  hardpan! 

Chapter  XXIII.   Thk  Skkptio  172 

Comradeahip  with  nature— the  country  the  chUd's  coun^ 
terpwrt  Diataction  and  iuTeetigation.  Fire  —  machanioa— 
whaala—boata—toola— carpentry.  Mischief  a  aodal  taat 

Chapter  XXIV.   Big  Injun  jjj 

Passionate  desire  to  be  real  — cause  of  perpetual  compel 
tition  and  obatreperooanesa  —  a  question  <rf  life  and  death. 
Big  Injun  —  reality,  not  show,  the  heart  ol  his  deaira. 
Chapter  XXV.  The  Fiobtiko  Instinc.  •  .  .  .  IJg 
The  instinct  not  malevolent  —  its  varied  incamationa  — 
needs  early  development  in  its  instinctive  form.  ThagMBSi 
of  contest — the  one  game  tendency.  Moral  value. 


TABLE  OF  OONTENTB 


CiAftw  XXVI.  Cbahm,  Cumbum,  FAUim»       If moii 

Imtuiotc  808 

ImHimI  to  n»  mmy  m  wtll  m  to  eham.  Bttnaing  gaoMi 

—  itriking  »nd  throwing  games.  Climbing,  »  pMting  iB> 
■tinet  CoMting  —  falling  —  wading  —  qntot  gamen  — 
•fpanlaa— fanMC  oi  bodily  floatioL  VmA  ci  iMdmhlp. 

OiArm  XXVn.  Vvurvnu  n  mm  Bio  Iiuim  A»m  .     .  91t 
Making  friends  with  nnimak.    Cruelty  and  sympathy. 
Nurtun  in  boya  —  its  wide  application  in  life.   Psts  —  little 
BwUwra— sehool  gardens— responaibilityol  old«r  children. 

CsArm  XXVllL  Crimb  or  Sport?  M 

The  use  of  grandmothers.  Persistence  of  the  predatory 
Imtinot  —  St.  Augustine  and  the  pear  tree  —  not  a  business 
propoiitioB.  Bogr  iRwbrsakers  not  criminals. 

Cbaptbr  XXIX.  A  ConrLioT  or  Ideals     ....  286 
Lawbreaking  from  the  necessity  of  self-assertion.  Boy's 
TiitoM  not  those  of  eivUiBation.   Launcelot  and  the  police 
eonrt  Moral  necessity  of  disobedienoa.  Why  b*d  bogp 
■oocoad.  TbaaltaniatiTa— itisaptooa. 


B.  THE  MOOD  OF  PLAT 

CuAmm  XXX.  Plat  n  PcMowrut  2M 

Play  seeks  results.  Always  a  whole  dead — laboidiBatioB 
to  an  end.  Man  the  child  of  purpose. 

Cbaftbr  XXXI.  Plat  is  the  Service  or  Ideals  .  264 

The  child's  purposes  not  Nature's  but  are  the  most  ineltt> 
■ire  he  can  achieve.  Play  not  for  pleasure  —  involves  pain. 
Subordination  to  conditions.  Crude  results  at  first.  The 
end  never  attained,  always  an  ideal  of  the  aork  thai  hM 
ruled  humanity.   The  unifying  vision. 

Chattsr  XXXIL  Plat  ahd  Dbddobrt  ....  868 
Drudgery  prescribed  by  hanger  or  hj  social  or  wtistio 
conscience.  Result  of  roan's  inventions.  Schools  ahonhl 
prepare  for  life  regardless  of  agreeableness.  Experlenee 
of  dmdgray  uaeleaB  as  preparation.  Only  action  can  be 
learned.  Play  prepares  for  drudgery:  by  training  in  the 
service  of  ideids,  by  its  puiposefttlaea,  by  ito  fighting  ^irit. 


XX 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 


Chapter  XXXIII.  Exuberant  Play   .....  'jSJ 
Letting  ofif  steam.   OeTelopt  indlTidoRUty^iotenrnted 
personality.  Shades  into  purposeful  pl»y.  Musk  and  due. 

ing  especially  combine  the  *.wo. 


C.  GROWTH  FROM  WITHIN 
Chapter  XXXIV.  BKLATBDmess  of  Plat  .... 
Big  Injun  not  omnivorous,  but  selective.  Significance  of 
pockets.  Desire  to  assimUate  his  world  as  an  extension  of 
personality.  A  place  for  treasures.  Should  not  be  drowned 
in  toys.  Man  a  safety  match— lives  in  the  fulfillment  of 
his  relations. 

Chapter  XXXV.   The  Imaginative  Plat  of  the  Bio 

Injun  Age  

The  survival  of  make-believe.  Impersonation  of  heroic 
characters.  Imagination  the  projection  of  the  ideal.  Its  im- 
portance in  the  Big  Injun  age.  Stories  -  castles  in  the  air. 
Chapter  XXXVI.  The  Need  to  Dreah  .... 
Dreaming  is  action  in  the  soft— first  form  of  growth-^ 
precedes  planning— part  of  the  grammar  of  action.  Must 
wait  for  the  vision.  Action  a  kind  of  steep.  Symbols— 
music  —  fairy  stories  —  myths,  not  useful  information.  Lit- 
erature the  dream  of  man.  Poetry  the  first  form  of  all 
sotion. 


280 


296 


308 


BOOK  V.    THE  AGE  OF  LOYALTY 
From  eleom  to  fourteen 
A.  NATURE  AND  FORM  OF  MEMBERSHIP 
Chapter  XXXVIL   The  Bewngino  Tottiwct    .      .  .319 
Child  and  mother  —  ring  games.   Big  Injun  —  individu- 
ality  and  membership  -  Umits  to  sociability — hero  worship 

—  home  membership  — giagarionsnes*   Contest  develops 
the  judicial  and  legislative  faculties.   The  string  games. 

Chapter  XXXVIII.  The  Team  3:,5 

Self-fulfillment  through  membership— man  the  pol!'  lcian 

—  experiencing  citizenship.  Belonging  a  special  Instinct 
The  team  takes  the  individual  beyond  himself —teaches 
nelliods  of  loyalty —develops  the  betenging  muscles.  The 


TABLE  OP  CONTENTS 


ni 


specializing  in  the  great  games  brings  faller  membership. 
Each  member  contains  the  team.   Comparison  of  our  na- 
tional  games.  The  raiding  games.  Need  of  regulation. 
Chapter  XXXIX.   Tbe  Gang       ......  860 

The  gang  a  true  persona  —  expressed  in  team  games, 
flf^ts,  raids,  ontings— loves  darkness.  SorriTsl  of  the 
war  band  —  conaiden  outsiders  enemies  —  treasures  distino- 
tions.   Gang  humor — tradition  —  ritual — bang-outs. 

Exuberance  of  the  belonging  inrtinct  in  college  and  other 
societies.   "  Jiner&.*» 

Chaptxr  XL.  The  Land  of  thk  Leal      ....  860 
Gaag  the  germ  of  a^  human  societies.  Its  ciTiliied  ex- 
pression —  theatricals — clubs  —  broadened  into  tiie  achooL 
Loyalty  to  loyalty  —  th(>  land  of  the  leal. 

Chapter  XLL  The  Gaito  Standard  869 

The  gang  effect  on  individual  conduct  —  what  the  crowd 
expects.  Always  idealist  at  bsart — the  source  of  heroic 
standards— deaoendant  of  the  war  band— Knights  of  the 
Round  Table. 

Manners  the  product  of  such  close  societies  and  concrete 
standards.   Caste  —  tiie  gentleman  —  the  SamnraL  The 

gang  must  be  corrected,  not  denatured. 
Chapter  XLIL  The  Larger  Units  of  Membership  .  880 
The  neighborhood  the  crucible  of  the  race  —  is  in  our 
blood  —  school  of  concrete  patriotism  and  individual  moral- 
ity— the  lost  unit  of  membership — to  be  cultivated  by 
pUy  and  play  centers.  The  slum  a  neighborhood  without 
a  personality. 

The  trade,  guild,  professional  organizations,  trade  unions. 

Town,  city,  oonnty,  and  nation.  Conereteness  in  patri- 
otism —  when  were  you  patriotic  ?  Imagination  —  «'  the 
commonwealth  as  a  huge  Christian  personality" — sym- 
bols, amoaenmits,  Timaliaation  —  embodimMit  in  honuui 
penonality.  TIm  eity  makes  the  citiiMi. 

B.  6ISL8  AND  LOTALTT 
Chapter  XLIU  Gnu  883 

Should  become  tomboys  between  eight  and  fourteen  — 
after  fourteen  should  be  far  less  strenuous  than  boys,  but 


xxii 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 


not  giT«  up  running,  romping,  and  ball  games.  Climbii^, 
walking,  swimming,  dancing,  skating.   Art,  music,  adorn- 
™ent,  dramatics.   Girls*  loyalty  is  to  the  heme— Ian  team 
sense  than  boys,  but  it  should  be  developed. 
Chaptcb  XIJV.   Bot8  and  Girls  

Their  mutual  attraction  not  one  but  many  'hings  — pur- 
suit — rivalry — maternal  instinct — gregariousness  —  bud- 
ding power  of  life.  Romantic  love— itn  relation  to  home 
and  infancy  — biological  importance. 

Quantitative  treatment.  Boys  need  romance  —  girls  do 
not  —  merits  of  novel  reading. 

Play  of  boys  and  girls  together:  jliould  play  games;  so- 
ciety should  not  be  confined  to  one  age.  Dancing— the 
wave  of  rhythm.  Rhythm  a  narcotic  — its  power  of  social 
fusion,  producer  of  orgies.  The  myth  of  Bacchus- safety 
in  development  of  art. 


C.  THE  APPRENTICE  AGE.   PLAY  COMPENSATES 

FOR  CIVILIZATION 
Cbaftks  XLV.   The  Apprentice  Years     ....  423 
Specializing  tendency  at  adolescence  —  with  team  dedi* 
to  make  good,  leads  to  vocation.   Moralizing  power  of  work. 
But  work  should  fulfill  not  only  team  sense  but  instinctive 
bias. 

Chapter  XLVT.  Dislocation  op  Civilized  Life  .  .  488 
The  con-  ituting  human  instincts  disappointed  in  indus- 
trial civilization  except  in  the  favored  callings.  Civiliza- 
tion has  side-stepped  — real  life  impossiMe  to  the  great 
majority.  Opportunity  to  die  heroically  not  enough.  The 
young  man's  revolt  a  moral  one  and  in  accordane*  with  the 
general  sentiment  of  mankind.  Civiliwtion  must  main 
out  a  case. 

Chapter  XLVII.  How  to  Rsconcilr  Lifr  awd  Civiuzatiow  448 
Two  successful  systems  in  the  past,  the  civic,  a.s  in  Athens, 
and  the  chivalric.  Both  based  on  the  exclusion  from  life 
of  the  majority.  Both  sought  expresrion  through  pUky,  one 
in  dueling,  hunting,  and  love  making,  the  other  in  art  and 
■eimce.  Both  impossible  for  us,  but  we  can  learn  from 
tliMB.  W«  mart  —  1.  Fit  tb«  ebild  to  our  world  by  »ll- 


TABLE  OP  CONTENTS 


round  education  and  industrial  training:  wide  application 
of  the  human  instincts  —  centered  on  achievement  —  pure 
drodgeiy  hard  to  find— work  sustained  by  the  belonging 
instinct.  2.  Fit  our  world  to  human  nature  —  Ruskinize, 
preserve  competition,  extend  codperation.  8.  Provide  an 
overflow. 

Chaptbb  XLVni.  The  Ovbrflow  404 

Cannot  preserve  war  or  live  by  hunting,  but  ean  h»'-« 
game  laws  and  football.  Use  of  the  dangerous  trades  m 
education.  The  arts  as  overflow  —  if  we  abolish  war,  must 
estabLsh  art  or  die.  Artistic  education.  Function  of  the 
amatenr,  especially  girls,  to  create  a  true  demand.  Folitios 
as  overflow.  Short  hours  necessary. 

Sunday  for  compensation— tiie  day  of  the  loat  telrato  

a  ahance  to  live. 


EPILOGUE.   PLAY  THE  BESTOBEB 

Man  the  incarnation  of  the  play  instincts,  They  create, 
constitute,  and  have  the  power  to  restore.  Strength  through 
snbordinaticm  to  a  purpose,  especially  by  making  good. 
Need  of  a  market  for  the  invalid.  Minor  ])lays  for  the 
sick:  breathing  —  seeing  pleasant  things  —  making  things 
—  mnaie  —  nov«]«  — dancing  — inteUeotoal  play.  Then- 
peutic  value  of  hunting,  fighting,  and  nurture.  Life  is  won 
by  living  43O 


PLAY  IJSr  EDUCATIOif 


BOOK  I.   PLAY  IS  GROWTH 
CHAPTER  I 

PLAT  IS  raSRIOUB 

If  you  will  watch  a  child  playing,  I  think  the  first  thing 
you  will  be  struck  by  will  be  his  seriousness.  Whether  he  b 
making  a  mud  pie,  building  with  his  blocks,  playing  ship  or 
horse  or  steam  engine,  or  marching  as  a  soldier  to  defend  his 
country,  you  will  see,  if  you  watch  his  face,  that  he  is  giving 
hb  whole  mind  to  the  matter  in  hand,  and  b  as  mudi  ab- 
swbed  in  it  as  you  become  in  your  most  sotous  pursuits. 
Or  if  the  dolls  are  sick  and  the  children  are  taking  their 
temperature,  sending  for  the  doctor,  and  administering  those 
strange  and  awful  doses  which  the  ailments  of  dolls  seem  so 
generally  to  call  for,  you  will  find  that  these  are  serious 
matters,  and  that  nothing  b  more  offmsive  than  to  intrude 
upon  such  ceremonies  with  flippant  or  unadvised  speech. 

So  also  with  the  sports  of  a  later  period.  To  say  that 
baseball  is  serious  is  to  understate  the  case.  Football  com- 
mands a  devotion  rarely  evoked  in  any  less  strenuous  pur- 
suit. What  a  boy  lies  awake  about  b  probably  not  hb 
spelling  or  arith  aetic,  but  his  chance  of  getting  <m  iht  team. 
AnxV^  'or  ther  sobjects,  where  it  exists,  usually  arises  from 

B  I 


2  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

apprehension  of  what  others  may  tWnk  or  do.  His  deep 

and  absorbing  interest  is  in  his  games. 

The  seriousness  of  play  is  shown  in  the  standard  of  effort 
and  ach^vement  that  it  holds  up.  The  strictest  school- 
mastw  of  the  old  nose-to-the-grindstone  school  never  secured 
the  whole-hearted  effort  that  is  seen  on  the  ball  field  every 
afternoon.  A  small  boy  throws  a  ball  so  as  to  curve  in  a  way 
which  a  few  years  ago  was  thought  to  be  impossible,  anothi 
hits  It  with  a  round  stirk,  while  a  third  urchin  in  the  distance 

UTi!!.    ."J  ^^'hen  you  consider 

how  Irt^le  of  the  course  of  the  ball  the  third  boy  saw  before 
he  started  to  run,  and  take  into  account -or  better  stiU 
experience -the  other  difficulties  involved  in  the  whole 
performance,  you  will  realize  that  such  feats,  though  seen 
every  day  on  every  ball  field,  are  somewhat  remarkable.  At 
east  things  equaUy  difficult  done  by  boys  in  their  arithmetic 
lessons  would  be  considered  so. 

And  if  he  does  not  catch  it  ?  A  boy  who  is  ahnost  turmng 
himself  inside  out  in  his  efforts,  but  who  fails  m  any  point 
of  the  game,  is  spoken  to  by  his  companions  with  a  severity 
which  no  grown  person  is  sufficiently  hard-hearted  even  to 
attempt.  Strenuousness  of  effort  is  no  palliation  of  his 
offense.  There  is  no  plea  that  "  little  Johnnie  did  his  best." 
Cxood  intentions  don't  go  on  the  baU  field;  the  standard  is 
inexorable. 

In  truth  the  play  of  children  is  in  the  main  not  play  at  all 
m  the  sense  m  which  grown  people  use  theword.  It  is  play 
in  the  sense  of  being  spontaneous,  agreeable,  undertaken  for 
Its  own  sake  and  not  for  an  ulterior  object.  It  is  not  ulay  m 
the  sense  of  being  mere  relaxation  or  diversion,  or  a  tiling  of 
secondary  importance.  Of  course  children  like  to  plav ;  aU 
good  workmen  like  their  work ;  but  it  is  none  the  less  serious 
0^  that  acc(mnt. 


PLAY  IS  SERIOUS 


8 


It  b  true  th*t  childrai  do  alao  indulge  in  play  in  the  sec- 
ondary or  grown-up  sense  — they  usually  distmguidi  it 

under  the  name  of  fooling.  And  such  play  has  its  function 
also,  as  we  shall  see.  But  the  characteristic  play  of  child- 
hood is  not  of  this  sort. 

It  b  the  supreme  seriousness  of  play  that  gives  it  its  edu- 
cational importance,  ^ucation,  as  we  have  all  learned,  is 
not  simply  a  matter  of  accumulating  knowledge.  We  are 
now  learning  the  further  truth,  which  Froebel  taught,  that 
it  is  not  even  a  matter  of  acquiring  power,  of  training  the 
muscles  and  the  mind.  We  aim  to  develop  power ;  we  train 
the~Tui)ncles  and  the  mind;~BuVwe  are^o  longw  contoit 
unless  these  serve"  as  avenues  to  something  deep&.  ^e 
question  is  not  of  learning,  nor  yet  of  power,  but  of  character. 
If  the  lesson  has  struck  home,  the  result  is  not  meretj'  more 
knowledge  or  more  intelligence,  but  more  boy  or  girl  —  more 
of  a  pawn  there  for  all  purposes.  If  his  arithmetic  has 
truly  reached  him,  he  will  play  better  football ;  if  hfa  football 
has  been  the  real  thing,  he  will  do  better  at  arithmetic. 
That  is  the  test  of  a  true  educational  experience  —  that  it 
leaves  a  larger  personality  behind. 

An  exercise  to  have  this  educational  effect  must  possess 
the  quality  of  complete  enlistm«it.  It  is  with  the  core  of 
being,  the  central  and  pervading  essence,  as  with  the  sub- 
ordinate faculties:  the  soul,  like  the  muscles,  grows  by 
wction ;  it  creates  itself  by  self-assertion,  by  putting  itself 
forth  in  ov&et  deeds  and  into  concrete  form.  It  is  only  what 
you  put  the  whde  of  yoursdf  into  that  will  give  you  a  greater 
self  in  return. 

^  This  characteristic  of  the  true  educational  experience  is 
possessed  by  play  and,  to  the  full  extent,  by  play  alone.  It 
b  only  in  his  pUiy  that  the  child's  whole  power  is  called  forth, 
that  he  gets  himsdf  oitirdy  into  what  he  does.  Or  ratha*, 


*  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

in  play  he  puts  more  than  himself  into  it,  more  than  was 
actually  there,  or  would  ever  have  existed,  if  called  for  by  a 

in  It  the  child  8  nature  leaps  out  toward  its  own  and  takes 
possession. 


CHAPTER  II 


PLAT  n  OBOWTH 

Play  seen  from  tiie  inside,  as  the  child  sees  it,  is  the  most 
serious  thing  in  life.  Seen  from  the  outside,  as  a  natural 
phenomenon,  its  importance  corresponds.  Nature  is  as  much 
in  earnest  in  this  matter  as  is  the  child.  Her  purpose  as 
declared  in  the  child's  play  instincts  is  the  most  serious  pur- 
pose she  has  in  his  behalf.  It  includes,  indeed,  the  whole 
intention  with  which  she  brou^t  him  forth,  namely,  to  make 
a  man  of  him. 

Play  builds  the  child.  It  is  a  part  of  nature's  law  of 
•th.  It  is  in  truth  for  the  sake  of  play,  and  of  growth 
v  acted  by  it,  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  a  child  at  all. 
As  Herr  Groos,  our  best  of  Germans  and  chief  teacher  in  this 
matter,  has  well  said :  "Children  do  not  play  because  they 
are  young ;  they  are  young  m  ordw  that  they  niay  play." 
It  is  for  the  sake  of  play  that  the  great  phenomenon  of  in- 
fancy exists ;  play  is  the  positive  side  of  that  phenomenon. 
The  reason  the  higher  animals  are  bom  so  helpless  and  un- 
formed is  in  order  that  they  may  be  finished  by  this  method. 
The  reason  man  is  sent  into  the  world  the  most  l^kn  ttf 
them  all  —  the  most  absurd,  impossible  phenomenon  in  a 
world  of  internecine  competition  —  is  in  order  that  he  above 
all  the  rest  may  be  the  playing  animal,  fashioned  in  obedience 
to  the  great  play  instincts.  Play  is,  in  sober  truth,  the  very 
V   act  and  throe  of  growth. 

The  working  of  this  law  of  growth  through  play  is  some- 
thing with  which  we  are  all  of  us  familiar.  The  law  is  al- 

5 


•  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

most  visibly  at  work  during  every  wddng  liour  b  evoy 
child.  Indeed  the  difficulty  in  recognizing  the  vital  functkm 
of  children's  play  arises  chiefly  from  the  fact  that  the  evidence 
is  so  familiar  as  to  prevent  our  getting  a  fresh  and  reaUanff 
view  of  it  ^* 

y    (Jrowth  through  play  is  simply  an  example  of  the  general 
law  of  growth  through  action.    We  all  know  that  a  musde 
grows  by  exercise.   The  physiologists  tell  us  that  the  same 
IS  true  of  the  other  tissues,  -  "the  function  makes  the 
organ    as  they  say.   The  very  bones  depend  on  exercise 
for  full  development  and  are  even  partly  shaped  by  the  use 
we  put  them  to,  -  a  triumph  of  the  oW-fashioned  heavy 
gymnastic  school,  for  instance,  being  the  oonversbn  jt  the 
shoulder  jomt  mto  something  more  or  less  resembling  the 
hip.»   The  same  thing  b  true  of  habits  and  nervous  coordma- 
twns.  From  learmng  to  walk  up  to  playing  the  violin  skill 
comes  by  practice,  as  we  aU  know.  So  also  mental  ability 
largely  depends  on  training,  moral  power  on  previous  right 
choices.    You  cannot  go  so  deep  in  human  nature  but  that 
the  same  law  holds.   Whatever  may  be  the  cause  of  any 
action  —  whatever  we  may  think  on  the  subject  of  determin- 
ism  or  free  wiD  —  there  is  no  doubt  that  it  may  have,  through- 
out our  entire  being,  a  great  effect.   That  chOdren  are 
peculiarly  susceptible  of  such  development  is  a  further 
commonplace  of  our  experience,  assumed  in  every  theory  d 
educatbn  and  too  familiar  to  require  illustration. 

Growth  through  play  is  an  example  of  growth  through  v 
action.  But  it  is  also  much  more  than  that:  it  is  growth 
through  certain  prescribed  activities  in  which  an  essential 
PMC  of  nature's  purpose  is  wrapped  up.  The  play-built 
anunals  are  not  left  to  grow  at  haphazard,  are  not  merely 
opportunist;  the  action  that  gives  their  final  form  is  not 
» OuUdr,  in  "Hiyiieal  Bdaoi^n  by  Muscular  Bxeroise." 


FLAY  IS  QROWTH  7 

such  as  whim  or  dumee  may  hi^qien  to  direct  Natttrehatiii 

them,  as  in  all  her  creatures,  specific  and  imperious  purposes 
in  view.  These  purposes  she  has  embodied  in  certain 
impulses  —  in  what  we  call  the  play  instincts  —  conscious 
taidendes  which  unfold  themselves  in  every  child  and 
direct  his  action  so  far  as  it  is  left  by  circumstances  and  hb 
elders  to  his  control. 

The  diflference  between  the  play-built  animals  and  those 
born  ready-made  is  that,  in  the  former,  Nature  has  intrusted 
her  leading  and  inclusive  purposes  not  to  the  lower  nerve 
centers  but  to  the  nund,  am!  thus  left  them  to  the  creatures 
themselves  to  carry  out.  She  has  taken  her  offspring  into 
partnership,  whispered  her  secret  to  them  in  their  instinc- 
tive impulses,  and  left  to  them  the  completion  of  her  design. 
The  playing  animals  are  produ  --s  of  their  own  efficient  will. 
Man  espedidly  is  incarnate  purpose.  We  are  all  in  this 
most  literal  sense  self-made. 

Play  is  thus  the  essential  part  of  education.  It  b  nature's 
prescribed  course.  School  is  invaluable  in  forming  the 
child  to  meet  actual  social  opportunities  and  conditions. 
Witlwut  the  sdiool  he  will  not  grow  up  to  fit  our  institutions. 
Without  play  he  will  not  grow  up  St  all 


CHAPTER  UI 


FLAT  TRAINS  fOR  UTI 

Nature  forms  the  child  through  impulses  that  direct  his 
activity  during  his  plastic  stage.  What  is  the  nature  of 
these  impulaesr  The  best  teMher  upon  this  subject  I 
have  ever  seen  WM  ft  Idtten  who  came  to  sUy  with  at  one 

summer  and  gave  a  remarkable  series  of  demonstrations. 
Anything  that  moved  along  or  near  the  floor  she  made  it  her 
business  to  chase;  or  if  it  did  not  move  of  itself  she  would 
set  it  going.  A  oork  was  her  favorite  plaything  —  I  thmk 
because  of  its  uncertain  way  of  jumping  and  the  consequent 
exigencies  of  its  pursuit.  She  would  crouch  and  lie  in  wait 
for  it,  bat  it  with  her  paw,  run  after  it,  dodge,  jump  into 
the  air.  She  would  set  herself  lessons,  hitting  ii  backwards 
under  her  as  she  readied  over  the  rung  of  a  straw  sofa,  and 
foUowing  with  a  combined  siDmersault  and  coricscrew  move- 
ment that  was  evidoitly  impossible  until  you  saw  it  done. 
And  always  the  game  ended  with  a  pounce  in  which  both 
paws  came  down  on  the  cork  and  held  it  fast. 

What  was  that  kitten  doing  ?  Obviously  she  was  learnmg 
her  job.  You  couM  ahnost  see  that  cork  turn  into  a  mouse 
as  she  pursued.  Sho  was  becoming  a  cat  by  domg  the  thugs 
of  a  cat,  growing  into  the  Gray  Hunter  by  exercising  herself 
in  his  activities.  What  Nature  had  above  all  else  determined 
that  this  creature  of  hers  should  be,  that  she  prescribed  for 
it  to  do  while  in  the  making.  Having  purposed  a  hunter, 
she  decreed  the  essence  of  hunting  as  a  daily  and  hourly 
leaon;  and  the  soft  body,  frc»n  its  first  helpless  movement, 

8 


PLAY  TRAINS  FOR  UFB  • 


WM  molded  by  that  exerdM.  She  Mourad  adtpUtioii 
to  her  purpoie  by  putting  the  purpoee  inside  Mid  lettbg  it 

work  out,  that  so  it  might  pervade  the  whole  organism, 
fitting  it,  lilce  hand  and  glove,  to  its  demands.  And  in  the 
unsentimental,  deadly  practical  school  of  Nature,  the 
activity  thus  prescribed  is  that  by  which  life  b  going  to  be 
supported.  Her  curriculum  tm  that  kitten  was  clearly  a 
trade  school. 

Equally  important  was  the  mood  in  which  the  lessons  were 
carried  on.  It  was  no  set  of  gymnastics  that  the  kitten  was 
perfonniug.  There  was  no  "right  paw:  upward  raise!"" 
m  het  uistnictions.  Hie  message  referred  not  primarily 
to  her  legs  and  tail,  but  to  the  object  of  pursuit.  And  it  was 
delivered  not  to  subordinate  nerve  centers  but  to  her  heart. 
Her  whole  activity  was  radial.  The  purpose  had  first 
taken  possession  of  her  soul  and  was  working  from  that 
outwards,  ruling  every  nerve  and  muscle  fnmi  troulM  biow 
to  spike  of  quivering  tail.  There  was  more  of  the  hunting 
spirit  in  her  tha  n  even  her  lithe  body  could  express.  What 
possessed  her  was  the  passion  and  ecstasy  of  pursuit,  to  which 
her  physical  organism  conformed  as  best  u  could.  A  kitten 
playing  is  a  hunting  demon,  a  soul  ot  fire,  a  spirit  that 
or.truns  all  possible  expresami.  The  cat  beonnes  a  hunter 
from  the  soul  out  because  it  is  the  hunter  in  her  that  has 
built  her  mind  and  body  from  the  start  She  is  the  incam*- 
tion  of  that  sing.^e  aim. 

It  is  the  same  trith  all  the  play-built  animals,  as  Herr 
Groos  has  shown.  All  these  are  fashioned  not  merely  lor,  but 
by,  their  main  pursuits.  Puppies  chase  and  bite  and  threaten 
and  roll  over  one  another  or  join  in  the  chorus  after  some 
common  quarry,  because  fighting,  chasing,  and  running  with 
the  pack  are  the  vital  activities  of  the  wolf  or  othw  early 
ancestor  from  whom  their  characteristics  are  derived.  So 


10  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

Znt"'  "'.'.""'^  about 
m  the  abrupt  up-andniown  manner  that  has  made  them 

the  unconscious  humorists  of  the  animal  kingdom,  becaus^ 
but  .„  „a„y  kinds.    The  eat  is       .„i^ted  co^S 

fclv  ™'kIL";?~  '      R-'^''-'.  that  rs 

Wegrabbed."  Man  .-.presents  a  less  limited  vocabl^^  • 
he  speaks  m  many  voices  and  to  many  ends-  bnt  Zl' 

,      ,  -""^  °'  P«^"P«»»  is  the  same.  Man's 

and  hdd  a  place  in  the  world's  competition,  are  given  in 
h»  .nstncts;  and  these  instincts  take 

J  he  process  may  be  seen,  as  weU  as  cause  and  eff-^ 

^.t^^^yo:t:;Zthi„ThX^S^^^^^^^ 

through  play  with  ZTT^^'-S^TZ  '"""  "^ 
children.  Man  the  -''cientis.  eCrf  f/' ^f"^" 

«am^  of  contest.       M«.      Citisen  i„  th.  gw.t  t«un 


PLAY  TRAINS  FOR  LIFE 


11 


In  man,  as  in  all  the  higher  animals,  the  play  instincts  are 

simply  the  instincts  and  inteie?ts  of  ^rown-up  life,  the  forces 
that  are  to  form  the  w  rp  of  his  ex":  i  ence,  the  major  effi- 
ciencies which  Nature  ii  e-i^ds  that  he  shall  have.  If  man's 
prescribe  .  education  is  b  •(.!*."  thin  that  of  any  other  animal 
it  is  because  his  mature  life  is  broader,  aimed  at  more  kinds 
of  skill.  Each  separate  instinct,  also,  is  less  narrowly  fixed 
in  its  requirements ;  there  is  room  for  judgment,  discrimina- 
tion, adaptation  of  means  to  ends.  As  compared  with  that 
of  his  fellow-creatures  man's  is  more  of  a  university  educa- 
tion, less  of  a  trade  school.  But  it  b  none  the  less  practical 
on  that  account. 

Nature,  it  is  true,  does  not  teach  plumbing  or  law  or  sales- 
manship, —  at  least  not  in  any  very  direct  or  recognizable 
way.  Her  curriculum  is  aimed  not  at  man's  life  under 
modern  industrial  conditions,  but  at  life  as  it  w  as  during  the 
long  centuries  in  which  his  qualities  wa*e  fcmned.  But 
for  that  primitive  life  she  gives  an  all-round  prqwration. 
Even  young  animals  receive  something  more  than  a  purely 
vocational  training  in  the  narrow  sense.  They  learn  to 
come  when  their  mother  calls,  to  be  sufficiently  poUte  to 
thdr  pack  or  litter  mates  to  av(Hd  internecine  brawb ;  and 
kittens  at  least  recdve  lessons  in  neatness  calculated  to  mr.!:e 
any  human  mother  envious.  So  the  child  is  trained  by 
play  not  merely  to  make  a  living  but  to  fulfill  all  the  essential 
relations  of  a  human  life.  It  is  even  difficult  —  though 
civilization  has  made  notable  advance  in  that  direction  —  to 
find  any  occupation  wholly  fmrdgn  to  the  latitudes  that 
Nature  trains,  so  catholic  is  her  provision. 

Man  is  the  creature  of  his  major  instincts,  masters  of  life, 
sent  on  before  to  form  him  in  their  ima^e  and  to  their  pur- 
poses. He  is  creator,  poet,  hunter  and  fighter,  nurturer, 
adentist,  dtisen  —  uttoly  and  in  every  ttasM  —  becsuse  h» 


12 


PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


b  formed  by  the  instincts  of  creation,  rhythm,  nurture, 
hunting,  fighting,  curiosity,  and  social  membership.  The 
great  constituting  impulses  of  human  nature  take  charge  of 
his  activity  during  his  plastic  stage,  and  he  comes  out 
stamped  and  molded  in  their  likeness.  His  mind  and  heart 
are  emanations  of  them ;  his  body  is  their  tool,  wrought  and 
fitted  to  their  use. 

It  would  almost  seem  as  if  the  child's  own  use  of  language, 
in  the  importance  he  assigns  to  the  verb  —  calling  the  cow 
the  "moo,"  the  dog  the  "bow-wow,"  and  the  sheep  the 
"baa"  —  indicates  an  insight  into  the  method  by  which  he 
himsdf  is  made.  He  seems  to  have  divined  that  the  cat  is  an 
animated  claw,  the  wolf  a  living  pincers,  as  surely  as  a  knife 
is  a  cutter,  or  an  engine  a  puller  of  trains. 

And  as  in  the  kitten,  so  in  man,  there  is  a  surplus  of  the 
spirit  in  his  play.  It  demands  of  him  more  than  he  or 
any  <me  could  do.  It  calls  upon  his  body  to  exceed  itself, 
drives  his  powers  to  their  limit  and  beyond.  There  is  a 
transcendental  element  in  the  play  instincts  that  suggests 
an  infinite  development. 


CHAPTER  IV 


PLAT  AND  THE  HUNOEBS 

I  HAVE  aiuma«ted  what  I  believe  to  be  the  principal 
play  instincts,  seven  in  all  —  creation,  rhythm,  hunting, 
fighting,  nurture,  curiosity,  team  play.  Most  people  I  think 
would  include  all  of  these ;  some  would  include  others  that 
I  have  omitted. 

Acquisitivoiess,  for  instance,  b  often  r^arded  as  a  special 
instinct.  To  me  it  seems  rather  a  manifestation  of  several 
instincts  which  require  material  things  —  blocks,  tools, 
dolls,  miscellaneous  objects  —  for  the  building,  controlling, 
nurturing,  classifying  activities  that  they  prescribe.  The 
cases  of  the  miser  and  of  the  "grabby"  child  seem  to  me 
to  represent  the  hypertrophy  of  these  instincts  in  their 
preliminary  stage  —  an  excess  of  zeal  in  acquiring  the  means 
necessary  to  their  satisfaction  —  rather  than  a  ^>ecial  instinct 
to  horde  or  grab. 

Self-adornment,  which  I  have  not  included,  does  seem  to 
be  a  special  mstinct.  I  have  omitted  it  from  my  list  because 
—  except  as  an  occasional  ally,  in  little  girls,  of  their  parents' 
baneful  efforts  to  make  them  keep  their  clothes  clean  —  it 
is  not  particularly  important  until  the  period  of  adolescence, 
when  it  appears  in  the  mutual  relation  of  boys  and  girls, 
which  I  shall  speak  of  in  describing  that  age. 

Climbing  Is  evidently  an  instinct,  and  it  is  impwtant  m 
its  day,  but  it  b  not  one  of  the  continuing  impubet  tqpcm 
which  the  chikl's  whole  life  is  woven.  The  same  may  be 

13 


14  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

sazd  of  the  impersonating  impulse,  at  least  in  its  most  salient 
form  importunate  as  that  is  during  its  special  period. 

There  is  also  a  whole  se^  of  mstincts  that  I  have  not 
mcluded  m  my  list.  I  mean  those  that  a.^e  supplementary 
to  the  major  mstmcts,  such  as  the  instincts  of  striking  with  a 
stack  or  weapon,  throwing  at  a  mark,  wrestlinf^.  which  are 
c^arly  anallary  to  the  hunting  and  fighting  instincts.  In 
this  class  should  perhaps  be  included  the  more  rudimentary 
mipulses  hke  grasping,  wielding,  walking,  making  vo<Sl 

♦Zi' •  ^t'-'  T  ""^"^  '""^^  ^^hich  will  be  men- 
^oned  m  their  place,  but  they  are  not  among  the  main  in- 
dusv^e  motives,  and  their  enmneration  here  would  be  a  dis- 
toactton  rather  than  a  help  in  understanding  our  subject  as 

There  is.  besides,  one  other  very  important  class  of  instincts 
that  I  have  not  mentioned,  and  which  I  shall  not  have  much 
to  say  about  as  they  have  no  direct  part  in  children's  play 
I  mean  the  hmigers:  for  air,  food,  and  the  sexual  relatiom 
The  huntmg  creatures  must  still  go  forth  in  search  of  food 
even  when  the  hunting  instinct  left  to  itself  would  give  way 
to  sickness  and  fatigue.  Hunger  drives  them.  Their 
motive  IS  no  longer  wholly  an  instinct  toward  a  special  sort 

drivTf'      •  °f  f So  men  arc 

drrven  to  their  tasks  by  the  hunger  motive.   To  aU  her 

other,  more  mspiring,  commands  Nature  has  added  for  all 
^r^r-TJ  ^  blanket  clause  -  "Succeed  or 

^Tlw     .       ^/^'^  ''"'^^  fi'-st  appeared 

upon  this  planet,  including  our  own  long  line  of  ancLors. 
this  motive  or  its  dmi  equivalent  has  stood  as  a  taskmaste^ 
exacting  strenuous  and  successful  exertion  on  pain  of  death. 

Many  men -probably  the  great  majority  -  cannot  do 
their  best  work  without  this  stimulus  or  the  fear  of  it  Wo 
we  set  to  this  pressure  and  for  the  most  part  require  its 


PLAY  AND  THE  HUNGERS  16 


presence  for  our  full  discharge.  A  lazy,  happy-go-lucky 
generation,  accustomed  to  hearing  the  wolf  at  the  door  or  to 

seeing  him  in  wait  for  us  just  around  the  corner  —  not  easily 
made  anxious,  or  we  should  have  died  off  long  ago  —  we 
need  his  help  to  bring  out  our  resources.  Even  genius  waits 
upon  the  hunger  motive,  as  witness  Thackeray,  Goldsmith, 
and  many  other  scribes.  The  starved  artist  is  often  an 
artist  partly  because  starvation  was  happily  presented  to 
him  as  the  alternative. 

We  are  thus  partly  products  of  the  hungers,  not  indeed  as 
to  the  form  of  our  exertion,  but  as  to  the  full  power  of  making 
it,  —  children  not  only  of  a  certain  class  of  specific  tendencies, 
but  also  of  the  physical  necessity  of  self-support 

Let  us  not,  however,  take  the  whip  for  the  horse,  mistake 
the  penalty  upon  idleness,  useful  though  it  be  as  a  stimulus, 
for  the  power  to  act.  A  good  many  people  had  been  hungry 
before  "  Vanity  Fair  "  was  written.  The  whole  annual  king- 
dom, bar  one,  might  have  starved  to  death  without  producing 
"  A  Man's  a  Man  for  a'  that."  Given  the  element  of  genius, 
the  fall  of  an  apple,  the  light  striking  on  a  pewter  mug,  may 
produce  a  wonderful  result ;  but  let  us  not  bestow  our  worship 
on  the  mug  or  the  apple  on  that  account. 

The  hungers  stand  midway  between  the  reflexes  and  the 
play  instincts.  They  seem  to  be  both  too  simple  to  require 
development  through  play,  and  in  the  case  of  the  hungers 
for  air  and  food  too  necessary  to  life  to  wait  for  it.  They 
might  apparently  have  been  made  purely  reflex  except  for 
the  advantages  of  inhibition.  In  the  case  of  breathing,  con- 
scious action  is  as  a  rule  not  in  the  exerdse  <tf  the  function 
but  in  suspending  it,  and  is  of  advantage  only  under  such  ex- 
ceptional circumstances  as  choking  or  swimming  under  water. 

There  is  thus,  as  it  were,  an  aristocracy  of  instincts.  On 
the  one  hand  are  the  hungers,  of  a  very  simple  nature,  not 


16  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

capable  of  development,  susceptible  of  a  material  satisfaction 

possessed  by  man  in  common  with  much  lower  forms  of  life' 
A  primitive,  earth-born  race,  their  worship  is  the  ancient  wor- 
ship of  Demeter,  the  Earth  Mother,  giver  of  increase,  and 
of  Astarte,  goddess  of  reproduction.  Their  decrees  are  en- 
forced by  physical  penalties;  their  satisfaction,  as  Plato - 
perhaps  too  puritanically  -  pointed  out,  is  not  so  much  a 
positive  gratification  as  an  escape  from  pain. 

On  the  other  side  stand  the  great  achieving  instincts  which 
direct  the  child's  growth  through  play,  with  their  subordi- 
nates drawn  up  like  non-commissioned  officers  in  their  train 
These  demand  not  a  physical  satisfaction,  but  the  active  serv- 
ice of  an  end.   Their  accent  is  not  on  what  is  to  be  got.  but 
on  what  is  to  be  done.   They  make  the  motive  of  the  deed 
the  domg  of  it ;  are  enforced  not.  directly  at  least,  by  penal- 
ties but  by  then-  own  sheer  authority.   Their  service  does  not 
pall  through  gratification;  on  the  contrary,  their  power  in- 
creases with  our  obedience.   Their  demand  is  not  limited  to 
a  particular  satisfaction,  but  is  infinite  and  insatiable. 

These  are  the  outputtmg  instincts,  prescribing  the  form 
of  man's  effectiveness  -  the  inclusive  instincts,  through 
^liich  his  whole  nature  gets  expressed,  avenues  of  his  total 
discharge.  The  hungers,  of  course,  are  also  active  impulses  • 
a  passive  mstinct  would  be  a  contradiction.  But  the  grati- 
Jcation  they  afford  is  largely  passive -an  assuagement, 
khe  quenchmgof  a  thirst.  In  thecaseof  the  play  instincts,  on 
the  other  hand,  the  gratification  is  in  the  doing  and  in  the 
beauty  of  the  thing  accomplished. 

It  is  with  these  latter  also,  rather  than  with  the  hungers 
that  we  Identify  ourselves.    When  the  creative  instinct 
tnumphs  over  hunger,  the  man  feels  that  he  himself  has 
won^  When  fear  or  desire  ,»nquer  the  team  sense  of  loyalty, 
he  knows  that  he  has  lo-    The  one  set  of  impubes  fbnn  «u 


PLAY  AND  THE  HUNGERS  17 


inner  circle,  if  not  our  very  self,  yet  close  to  it ;  the  others  are 
comparatively  alien,  are  smnetimes  even  felt  as  enemies  to  be 
kept  at  bay.  It  is  true  the  play  instincts  also  are  sometimes 
felt  to  be  the  voice  r>f  something  outside  ourselves.  But  it  is 
the  voice  of  something  higher,  to  which  we  owe  allegiance. 

The  distinction  holds  for  all  the  playing  animals.  The 
cat  eats,  breathes,  reproduces  her  kind,  in  order  that  she 
and  they  may  hunt.  It  b  to  that  end  that  her  blood  cir- 
culates and  her  heart  beats.  Hunting  is  the  sum  total  oi  her, 
including  and  explaining  all  the  rest. 

There  is  indeed  an  obvious  sense  in  which  the  opposite 
b  true,  in  which  a  hunting  animal  does  not  eat  that  he  may 
himt,  but  hunts  in  order  that  he  may  eat.  Biologically 
speaking  such  is  undoubtedly  the  more  illuminating  view ;  the 
lower  instincts  are  the  elder  and,  if  not  the  parents,  at  least 
the  taskmasters  and  beneficiaries,  of  the  higher  sort.  Apollo 
was  servant  to  Admetus.  Each  of  the  achieving  instincts 
minbters  to  one  or  anothw  of  the  more  andent  and  rudi- 
mentary. Hunting  and  the  fashioning  of  toob  and  weapons 
serve  the  food  hunger;  upon  the  hunger  of  sex  wait  the 
instincts  of  single  combat..  —  unpleasantly  illuminated  by 
the  eye  teeth  of  the  human  male  —  of  song  and  of  adornment. 
The  nurturing  instinct  sprang,  not  mdeed  from  sex,  but 
from  the  correlative  race-perpetuating  instinct  of  love  oi 
offspring.  Curiosity  has  become  an  abiding  trait  in  the  most 
successful  creatures  doubtless  because  of  the  material  ad- 
vantage it  confers.  Even  rhythm  must  have  been  an  aid 
to  survival  both  through  the  greater  endurance  of  drudgery 
and  the  closer  social  fusion  which  it  favors.  Membership 
itself,  the  source  of  loyalty  and  oi  the  social  virtues,  repre- 
sents the  superiority  of  the  group  ov^  the  individual  in 
the  eternal  struggle  to  survive. 

And  the  lower  still  drive  the  higher  instincts  when  driving 


W  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

fa  necessary  to  their  en.ls.    Xature  as  we  h.v.  ..M  k_-j 
P»«ribhgthespeemefor™s„fhi;ffX^,7"f^^- 

But  even  SO,  insistent  as  the  hunirers  are  th^  „  »"cceea. 
the  giants  have  the  last  word        ^1^.      ^  ^"'^ 
In  o  i„+      u  .  ^®  ""^U  see  more  clearlv 

in  a  later  chapter,  the  achieving  instmcta  a«.  *l!  ^ 
authoritative  "isuncts  are  the  more 

^r.t^-;:reSrtirrriS'" 

We  pcntless  tricks  and  habits,  like  swh^^^'^n 
«dmg  advertisements,  and  by  counties,  ex^o.'s  0?^^ 
monkey  or  smaU  boy  variety.   Peopk  ,0.^  J  T  . 
of  self-preservation,  and  ther«  Mem!  TT  . 
ethical  as  well  a,  in  the  physi:,'^ .  X^tn  '"wht 
he  becomes  conscious,  desires  instinctivelV  n,J,  1 

to  grt  hmwif  u,  harmony  with  the  universe  and  it 

Ue  mipulse  o»^H».rti„„,  characteristic,  as  we  2m  s^" 

of  a  whole  period  of  irrowth  i«  a  • 

sense   it  is  not  reasoning,  but  a  final  authoritative  int„,>r 

ones,  both  nearer  and  farther  than  th^     •  v   ,  ; 

Play  is,  b  the  m«n,  the  ^  d-  ^h^  I 

-ntralplac..thatre;nZSl^;^^^^  ' 
interests  of  life.                           P«scnbe  the  leading 


CHAPTER  V 


PLACE  AND  LIMITATIONS  OF  GROWTH  THROUGH  PLAT 

Plat  is  a  part  of  the  law  of  growth.   It  is  not  the  whole 

of  it ;  nature's  specifications  for  her  playing  creatures  are  not 
all  contained  in  the  play  instincts.  And  growth  itself  is  not, 
of  course,  all  powerful:  much  b  already  settled  at  the 
start. 

In  the  first  place  there  are  physical  limitations.  There 

is  given  at  the  time  of  birth  a  wonderful  and  complex  organ- 
ism such  as  it  has  taken  thousands  of  centuries  to  evolve  — 
not  a  formless  lump  of  tissue,  but  a  miracle  of  the  organization 
■  of  matter  to  serve  the  purposes  of  mind.  There  is  given  a 
skeleton  and  a  physical  structure  of  a  certain  form,  capable 
of  only  limited  variation.  All  subsequent  action  and  ex- 
perience must  build  on  'lis  and  can  develop  the  creature  thus 
presented  only  within  certain  limits,  wide  but  inexorably 
fixed.  No  man  can  add  a  cubit  to  his  stature  by  taking 
thought.  A  tiger's  play  instincts  insrated  in  a  child's  body 
could  never  quite  make  a  tiger  of  him,  though  th^  m^t 
go  far  in  that  direction.  Every  athlete  knows  that  there  b 
for  him  a  physical  limit  which  he  can  indefinitely  approach 
but  cannot  pass.  He  can  fail  of  the  attamment  of  this  limit ; 
and  he  can  modify  hb  actual  form  within  the  boundaries 
tlius  set  down  by  developmg  one  part  and  neglectmg  another 
—  as  a  man  can  write  letters  on  a  lawn  by  watering  part  and 
leaving  the  rest  in  drought.  Or  he  can  by  constant  straining 
induce  more  or  less  deformity.   But  he  cannot  jump  out 

19 


20 


PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


of  his  skin  nor  project  his  body  beyond  the  lines  laid  down 

for  it. 

And  not  only  is  the  possible  variation  limited  but  there 
is  a  bias  toward  a  certain  form.  There  is,  as  it  were,  an  ideal 
body  waiting  for  each  one  of  us,  wrapped  up  in  our  vital 
principle,  which  we  tend  to  live  up  into  in  proportion  to  the 
fullness  of  our  physical  life.  Education  seems  only  to  confirm 
us  in  this  destiny.  The  development  of  James  yields  simply 
more  James.  Exercising  John  makes  him  more  Johnlike 
than  ever.  The  case  is  a  little  like  that  of  the  foolscap  paper 
we  used  to  have  at  school,  stamped  with  a  raised  representa- 
tion of  the  Capitol  at  Washington  which  was  barely  visible 
when  the  paper  was  clean,  but  could  be  brought  out  in 
full  detail  by  rubbing  it  over  with  a  pencil. 

Besides  what  is  gir  in  the  bodily  structure  and  in  its 
fixed  bias  toward  a  particular  form,  much  b  also  predeter- 
mined in  the  reflexes  controlled  by  the  nerve  centers  below 
the  jurisdiction  of  the  will.  The  function  may  in  these 
cases  make  the  organ,  but  the  function  itself  is  not  intrusted 
lo  the  iiiind.  No  man  c«  iirectly  modify  the  beating  of  his 
heart  nor  interfere  in  iiie  mysteries  of  the  digestive  (or 
indigestive)  process.  Whether  the  potential  body  resides 
in  these  reflexes  or  in  the  organs  themselves  —  or  whether, 
as  I  suppose  is  more  nearly  the  truth,  law  and  substance, 
function  and  organ,  are  correlative  expressions  of  a  single 
process  —  in  either  case  this  part  of  the  law  of  growth  b  out- 
side the  direct  influence  of  the  mind  and  of  the  play  instincts 
that  act  through  it. 

Analogous  to  the  wholly  involuntary  reflexes  are  those 
instincts  —  that  is  to  say  actions  prescribed,  partly  at 
least,  to  the  mind,  and  not  wholly  to  the  lower  nerve  centers 
—  whose  operation  is  so  simple  as  to  require  little  or  no  prac- 
tice, and  which  are  not  developed  through  pUy  because  not 


LIMITATIONS 


21 


needing  such  development.  These  are  the  hungers,  ah«ady 

spoken  of,  which  have  apparent!,  been  placed  under  the 
jurisfliction  of  the  mind,  not  to  obtain  its  direction  as  to 
method,  but  in  order  that  it  may  have  power  of  inhibition 
or  release  —  may  say  when  but  not  how.  Play  has  no  direct 
part  in  the  development  of  the  jaws  by  eating  or  of  the  lungs 
by  breathing,  although,  by  inducing  a  healthy  appetite  for 
air  and  food,  its  indirect  effects  are  of  the  greatest  conse- 
quence. Whistling  and  chewing  gum  might  perhaps  be 
cited  as  direct  play  of  the  masticating  and  respiratory  ap- 
paratus. 

What  is  left,  then,  to  the  play  instincts  ?  Just  what  part 
do  they  actually  have  in  the  child's  growth  ? 

In  the  first  place  there  is  the  power  of  release.  The  ideal 
body  may  be  predetermined ;  it  may  be  waiting  for  the  child, 
althouf^  invisible,  as  the  oak  is  waitbg  in  the  acorn ;  but 
there  is  still  the  momentous  issue  of  its  realization.  What 
if  it  remains  unborn  ?  The  growth  of  every  child  is  the  story 
of  the  Sleeping  Beauty,  in  which  play  takes  the  part  of 
the  Prince.  A  potential  body  exists,  but  its  actuality  waits 
upon  its  use,  and  its  use  is  prescribed  in  the  play  mstincts. 
These  are  commisdoned  by  Nature  to  toucn  off  the  train  and 
reveal  the  structure  she  has  plaimed. 

The  physical  limi  cation  upon  the  effects  of  play  in  growth 
is  a  limitation  of  amount  and  not  of  kind.  It  is  not,  as  it 
were,  a  hostile  limitation ;  the  body  and  the  instincts  corre- 
spond; they  are,  like  the  tissues  and  the  reflexes,  correlative — 
two  sides  of  the  same  fact,  aspects  of  a  single  vital  process. 
They  represent  the  well-known  partners  in  all  physical 
phenomena,  force  and  substance,  and  are  related  as  falling 
is  rdated  to  the  stone.  The  hunting  instinct  is  limited  by 
the  kittm's  body  only  in  that  it  is  not  the  body  of  a  t^ier, 
or  of  some  super-tiger  of  infinite  prehennle  power.  But  it 


22 


PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


is  also  most  wonderfully  served  by  it.  This  is  the  sort  of 
body  it  would  have  chosen  —  has  chosen,  indeed,  nmonp  a 
million.  It  is  the  body  which  it  has  built  up,  or  at  least 
selected  for  itself,  through  all  the  centuries.  The  hiunan 
body  is  almost  equally  adapted  to  the  human  instincts. 
Play  in  developing  the  child  makes  visible  its  own  ideal, 
clothes  itself  in  fitting  actuality. 

As  we  recede  from  the  physical  side  of  growth  the  dominion 
of  the  play  instincts  is  wider  and  more  obvious.  Their 
effect  is  greater  on  the  muscles  than  on  the  bones,  on  the 
nerves  than  on  the  muscles,  and  grcatcsr  in  the  building 
up  of  habits  and  acquired  reflexes.  For  not  all  the  reflexes 
are  ready-made.  Those  that  are  necessary  to  carry  on  or  to 
transmit  physical  life  are  given  at  the  start,  or  make  their 
appearance  automatically  later  on.  Those,  on  the  other 
hand,  that  serve  the  higher  impulses,  that  constitute  the 
creature's  special  skill  and  make  for  him  his  place  in 
the  world  of  competition,  are,  in  man  and  in  the  higher 
animals,  acquired  after  birth.  And  they  are  acquired 
through  the  means  of  play. 

It  is  a  fact  of  cardinal  importance  that  in  the  production  of 
habits  and  acquired  reflexes  play  has  not  merely  a  releasing, 
but  a  selective  power.  It  is  true,  their  general  direction 
is  prescribed,  and  that  not  merely  by  the  nature  of  the  play 
instincts  themselves,  but  also  by  a  corresponding  bias  of 
the  whole  nervous  medianism.  It  b  not  every  kind  of 
action  that  establishes  a  habit  or  secretes  a  reflex.  Throwing 
with  the  right  arm  is  readily  acquired ;  for  most  men  the 
power  is  less  easily  develop-'^  in  the  left.  Acts  that  are  dis- 
tasteful, meaningless  for  us.  .on  be  repeated  a  thousand  times 
and  leave  no  trace,  as  witness  the  regular  life  of  sailors  on 
board  ship,  or  the  familiar  case  of  boys  who  have  been  made 
to  keep  their  clothes  dean  or  wash  their  hands.  Our  very 


LIMITATIONS 


•nnt  and  legs  have  prejudkes  of  their  own.  As  Bob  Acres 
snys :  "  Damme,  my  feet  don't  like  being  oafied  pftws,"  Mid 

they  recalcitrate  when  bid  to  act  as  such.  Action  in  the 
general  direction  of  our  major  instincts,  on  the  other  h 
is  sjTnpathetic  to  the  whole  organism.  The  k.wer  nerve 
centers  are  quickly  interested :  the  game  seeaas  not  wholly 
unfamiliar  to  them,  and  they  respond  in  m  snMsecBt  smrt  of 
way.  The  great  play  instincts  and  tlie  ivnly  made  to  serve 
thorn  are,  as  we  have  said,  correlative,  related  iu»t  us  clay 
to  the  sculptor,  but  rather  as  punners  in  a  common  enter- 
prise —  although  one  partn^  is  the  leMl«>  and  has  the  power 
of  mitiative. 

The  general  du^ction  of  the  reflexes  that  shall  *  f  /eloped 
through  play  is  thus  prescribed,  both  in  the  natutc  f)f  pUy 
itself  and  in  the  especial  susceptibility  of  the  organism  to  its 
purposes.  But  there  is  wkhin  the  scope  of  these  master 
ustmcts an ahnostbfinitecfcmceMto method:  thebiiikling, 
fighting,  creative  instincts,  and  the  rest,  have  eadi  a  great 
variety  of  issues.  And  the  adaptive  power  of  the  subordinate 
centers  corresponds.  A  man  may  hunt  with  a  spear,  a  gun, 
a  bow  and  arrow,  or  a  hook  and  line,  or  he  may  be  a  fisher 
after  men.  So  he  bm^  bufld  huts  or  homn,  temples,  poems, 
laws,  hypotheses ;  the  creative  impulse  gets  itedf  i««oided 
with  equal  readiness  in  music,  mausoleums,  and  mud  pies. 
Competition,  again,  takes  on  an  infinite  variety  of  forms 
both  in  play  and  in  grown-up  life.  We  compete  in  sport 
a'ld  Politics,  m  buaness,  in  art,  religion,  social  mtercourse, 
in  c  ,\ic  architecture  and  womoi's  dress.  And  according 
to  the  particular  methods  in  which  each  instinct  gets  ex- 
pressed, especially  durmg  childhood,  are  parti(»ikur  reflexes 
established  and  special  skill  acquired. 

The  truth  is  —  and  it  is  the  most  important  truth  in  the 
whole  matter  of  the  consOtutbn  of  tiie  hi^,  play-built 


24  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

animals  -  that  nature's  decree  as  given  in  the  play  instincts 
IS  never  m  completed  form.  There  is  always  a  gap  between 
t  e  tenns  o  the  order  given  and  the  method'of  LL^^ 
Lincoln  sajd  that  legs  were  the  right  length  if  they  were 
long  enough  to  reach  the  ground,  but  nature's  great  foZZ 
mstmcte.  as  set  to  work  in  the  growing  child'  neverTuhf 
reach  the  plane  of  action never  tell  him  precisely  what  to 

.a  .,T,f?''^^''*^^y^*'"^  are  brief  and  general:  "Hunt" 
^Budd,"  '<Nurture."  "Find  out,"  " Belofg."  "Com^^^ 
A  few  supplementary  directions  are  indeed  added  as  tohow 

tiirowuig.  walkmg,  graspmg  impulses.   But  these  supple- 

and  never  furnish  a  complete  or  exclusive  code.   Nor  are 
^ere  estabhshed  reflexes  sufficient  to  mark  out  the  exact 
^th  of  the  discharge.    It  is  here  that  the  great  function  of 
Pby  com^  m.   Its  busmess  is  to  fiU  ii,  the  gap  thus  left 
between  these  general  orders  and  their  execution  with  habits 
and  acquired  reflexes,  to  develop  skiU  -  precipitate  e«A  of 
the  master  instincts,  within  the  limits  of  its  general  scope 
upon  some  form  of  specialized  efficiency.    Through  daUy 
practice  m  specific  methods,  play  brmgs  each  of  the  grea^ 
sSlb^  to  earth  and  makes  it  applicable  Ing 

Even  in  comparatively  simple  matters,  the  same  rule  holds. 
When,t  .s  tmie  for  the  baby  to  use  his  legs,  Nature  speaks 
not  to  the  muscles  but  to  the  child.   She  whispers  "Kick  " 

even  their  kicking  just  alike.  So  when  it  is  time  to  walk. 
Nature  says  merely  "Walk." -at  first  not  even  that,  bui 

«n  V  ^b«'«  transit  problem 

^  his  hands;  or  perhaps  I  should  say  on  his  hands  and 


LIMIT  •  CIONS 


26 


Play  thus  creates  in  man  and  in  the  higher  animals  what 
we  call  a  second  nature,  supplementary  to  the  first  and  essen- 
tial to  its  practical  efficiency.  Without  the  acquirement  of 
thb  second  nature  the  play  creature  would  remain  forever 
vague,  unfinished,  inapplicable  to  the  real  affairs  of  life. 
The  gap  between  impulse  and  execution  would  remain  un- 
filled. A  play-inheriting  animal  that  does  not  play  will  be 
one  whose  nature  does  not  reach,  a  creature  on  a  grand  design 
whose  development  has  been  arrested,  able  to  dream  of  great 
things  but  less  able  to  execute  than  the  rudimentary  natures 
whose  simpler  plan  has  been  fully  carried  out.  If  Nature 
says  "  Play, "  you  must  play  or  never  quite  be  bom. 

The  function  of  play  in  growth  is,  then,  to  realize  the 
potential  body,  and  to  supplement  the  impulses  which 
the  major  instincts  give  in  general  terms  by  habits  and 
reflexes,  making  them  ^dent  to  specific  ends. 


CHAPTER  VI 

ADVANTAGES  OP  BEINQ  A  PLAY-BUILT  ANIMAL 

It  is  to  the  more  general  nature  of  his  master  instincts - 
not  in  hw  case  the  hungers,  but  the  instincts  that  have  charge 
of  h.s  effective  hfe  -  and  to  the  wider  ,ap  thus  left  between 
these  mstmcts  and  their  discharge  tha*  man's  superiority 
to  the  other  annuals  is  due.  In  the  lowest  forms  of  life 
th«e  18  no  such  gap  ac  all.    There  is,  indeed,  no  mind  by 

!t  ""l"*"  ^'^^""^  ^^"'^  f^lt  or  a  purpose 
«iterta.n«i.  The  mipdses  which  govern  action  prescribe 
Its  exact  form,  with  uo  margin  left  for  variation;  in  these 
the  appropriate  stimulus  pulls  the  trigger,  as  it  were,  and 
the  movement  follows  with  a  fatal  precision  and  uniformity. 

trap  — "dead  open 

and  shut  -lUce  the  way  our.  own  eyes  wink  without  our 
Help  when  anything  comes  too  near  them. 

When  we  reach  the  level  at  which  action  is  not  always 
precipitated  by  a  mere  sensual  stimulus,  but  is  sometimes 
directed  toward  an  object  perceived  by  the  animal  as  exist- 
«g  outside  himsetf  -  so  that  the  problem  of  adjusting  move- 
ment  to  the  reaching  or  avoidance  of  such  object  is  intro- 
duced-the  gap  between  instinct  and  execution  begins 
to  show  Itself.   A  toad  may  have  a  very  simple-hearted 
!r-Kv'^"'''T^  instinct  to  jump  at  flies,  subject  to  few 
mhibitwiui;  there  may  be  very  little  of  the  Hamlet  about 
hun  on  the  particular  question  of  to  jump  or  not  to  jump. 
But  nevertheless  the  instinct  to  "  jump-at-flies",  which  I 
suppose  IS  about  the  form  of  the  decree,  is  no  longer  a  simple 


ADVANTAGES 


27 


perfectly  specific  impulse.  It  has  within  itself  an  unfinished 
and  contingent  element.  The  toad  must  at  least,  in  each 
particular  case,  turn  himself  in  the  right  direction  and  judge 
his  distance.  The  command  contains  the  implied  supple- 
mentary clause  "in  such  direction  and  at  such  range  as 
the  special  circumstances  may  require."  The  instinct  does 
not  itself  reach  to  the  actual  fly,  and  the  gap  thus  left  must 
be  filled  in  by  a  special  adjustment  in  each  case 

A  human  parallel  to  this  degree  of  generality  of  instinct, 
though  by  no  means  an  exact  one,  is  in  the  impulse  of  the 
small  boy  to  throw  things  at  a  cat.  The  instinctive  com- 
mand "  throw  somethmg  at  her"  is  given  without '  salifica- 
tion and  received  without  misgiving,  but  the  command  does 
not  give  the  range  or  the  direction  in  a  specific  case.  These 
necessary  determinations  must  be  made,  and  action  adapted 
to  them,  hy  some  supplementary  mechanism. 

The  higher  we  in  the  scale  of  animal  life,  the  wider 
this  gap  becomes  between  a  given  impulse  and  its  execution. 
The  hunting  instinct  in  the  higher  carnivora,  for  instuice, 
is  very  general  in  its  nature,  leaving  the  creature  in  eadi 
particular  case  a  vast  and  difficult  problem  as  to  its  execu- 
tion. There  are,  it  is  true,  certain  subordinate  instincts  — 
of  lying  m  wait,  pursuing,  seizing  —ready,  Uke  wdl-trained 
subalterns,  to  fill  in  at  special  points  in  the  executbn  <d  the 
decree.  But  these  subordinate,  more  executive  instincts 
have  not  only  to  be  selected  and  applied,  each  at  the  appro- 
priate moment,  by  some  controlling  principle,  but  they  are 
thonsdves  partly  indefinite  and  leave,  in  each  particular 
application,  a  vast  space  to  be  filled  in  by  q)edal  adapta- 
tions—  as  in  the  choice  of  positbn,  avoiding  obstacles, 
taking  short  cuts,  headmg  off  the  game.  I  knew  of  a  fox 
who  scraped  out  for  himself  a  hiding  place  on  the  top  of 
a  bunker  on  a  golf  course  so  that  he  could  lie  m  wait  there 


28  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

and  spring  out  on  the  crows  who  used  to  promenade  in  the 
close  vicmjty.  It  is  a  long  way  from  even  his  set  of  huntin,? 
impulses  to  such  an  application  of  them.  And  in  the  con- 
verse <»se.  where  one  of  these  creatures  is  not  hunting  but 
bemg  hmited.  there  is  abmidant  evidence  from  hunters 
and  trappers  of  the  extraordinary  sagacity  they  show  in 
solvmg  the  stratagems  used  against  them  and  avoiding  their 
effects.  Every  such  expedient  carries  out  an  instinct, 
but  It  18  also  m  addition  to  it:  the  instinct  does  not  cany 
out  Itself.  ^ 

The  various  commands,  "shut,"  "seize,"  "hunt"  — 
implanted  respectively  in  the  jellyfish,  the  toad,  and'  the 
fox  -  represent  three  widely  separated  degrees  of  generaUty 
and  the  creatures  that  severally  respond  to  them  are  corre^ 
^ndmgy  separated  in  the  degree  of  their  adaptability, 
and  of  the  mtelhgence  by  which  the  necessary  adaptations 
are  supplied.  t-  o 

In  the  human  instincts  by  far  the  highest  degree  of  gen- 
erality IS  reached.    Man's  peculiarity  in  this  respecfis 
apparently  due  to  the  human  Jiand  and  to  the  far  greater 
variety  m  the  expression  of  his  instincts  made  possible  to 
him  by  the  possession  of  this  most  adaptable  of  members. 
The  hand  IS  not  only  in  itself  the  finest  and  most  wonderful 
of  tools,  but,  through  its  powers  of  shaping  and  wielding 
other  instruments,  it  bestows  the  freedom  of  the  whole 
world  of  mechanics,  opening  up  practical  opportunities  in 
a  geometric  ratio  and  making  the  world,  to  its  possessor, 
a  different  place  from  what  it  is  to  any  other  creature.  White 
the  other  hunting  animals,  for  instance,  are  limited  in  final 
execution,  and  therefore  in  every  method  leading  up  to  it 
to  the  use  of  mouth  or  claw,  man  hunts  with  bow  or  slin^ 
or  trap  cr  gu-  with  net  or  spear  or  hook;  caUs  in  to  hb 
assistance  the  dog,  the  horse,  the  falcon;  mdtes  boats,  even 


ADVANTAGES 


29 


plants  forests  and  digs  out  ponds,  to  help  him.  And  all 
this  he  does  as  hunter  alone,  to  say  nothing  of  the  wonderful 
variety  of  choice  opened  out  to  him  between  hunting  and 
his  many  other  ways  of  getting  on.  In  him  the  angle  of 
variation  in  the  discharge  of  his  innate  impulses  has  widened 
from  a  few  degrees  to  a  whole  circle.  Indeed  man's  methods 
of  execution  have  finally  exceeded  their  original  charter 
and  found  —  for  better  and  for  worse  —  methods  of  attain- 
ing material  ends  that  are  outside  the  scope  of  his  adueving 
instincts. 

In  the  case  of  man  the  gap  between  mstinct  and  execu- 
tion is  thus  by  far  the  widest,  and  the  need  of  some  way  of 
filling  it  is  correspondingly  great.  It  is,  as  I  have  said,  in 
the  filling  of  this  gap  that  play  takes  its  important  part  m 
growth.  It  is  indeed  because  of  this  gap  that  there  is  such 
a  thing  as  play  —  or  rather  it  is  for  the  sake  of  play,  and  of 
the  adaptations  it  can  bring  about,  that  such  a  gap  exists. 
The  superiority  of  the  play-built  animab,  and  of  man  e^ 
cially,  is  largely  tl.e  result  of  these  adaptatbns  and  of  the 
mechanism  of  adaptation  which  they  have  necessitated. 

At  first  sight,  indeed,  the  superiority  might  seem  to  be 
upon  the  other  side.  The  play-built  anunal  has,  not  only 
m  his  prolonged  period  of  helplessness,  but  even  in  his  final 
make-up,  some  obvious  disadvantages.  He  is  always  in 
a  sense  an  amateur  as  compared  with  his  more  clear-cut 
rivals.  The  ready-made  animals  are  the  true  specialists. 
Hiey  are  practical  'folks,  not  troubled  by  theory  nor  given 
to  hesitation,  enjoying  a  perfect  freedom  from  the  inhibitions 
that  distract  the  more  onnplicated  products  erf  the  play 
method.  Each  of  them  knows  only  one  thing,  but  he  knows 
that  one  thing  well.  The  snapping  turtle  asks  no  questions, 
has  no  discursive  curiosity,  but  acts  at  once  and  with  pre- 
cision as  occasion  caUs.  Such  a  creature  will  often  possess, 


PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

abnost  from  birth,  a  higher  degree  of  skUl  in  his  own  specialty 
than  his  play-buUt  rival  can  ever  acquire.  When  opening 
and  shuttmg  are  what  the  situation  calls  for,  the  "  dead^pen- 
•nd-shut"  pi^ychology  has  an  advantage  with  which  no  other 
mechanism  can  compete.  Whfle  the  play-buflt  theorist 
IS  pondermg  the  situation  his  more  simple  rival  gets  the 
thing  done. 

Man,  as  the  most  play-built  of  all  the  animals,  most 
general  m  his  native  impulses,  is  the  most  amateurish  and 
almost  the  clumsiest  of  aU.  He  can  do  everything  a  little, 
but,  by  the  specialist's  standard,  nothing  well.  The  horse 
and  a  hundred  others,  can  beat  him  at  running,  the  fish 
at  swunming,  the  squirrel  at  climbing,  the  wolf  at  biting  - 
and  so  on.  He  u  not  quick  at  anythmg  -  up  to  a  really 
competitive  degree  -  unless  at  some  action  like  winking, 
in  which  he  is  stUl  on  the  level  of  the  ready-made  His 
attempts  at  speed  are,  from  the  hunting  creatures'  point 
of  view,  merely  ludicrous.  Man  can  never  hope  to  possess 
the  advantages  of  specialization  as  many  of  his  rivals  do. 

To  make  up  for  these  immense  advantages  of  the  ready- 
inj«le  the  play-buUt  animal  has  two  compensations:  he 
IS  finished  to  fit  actual  conditions,  and  he  can  discriminate. 

By  the  former  advantage  I  mean  that  the  gap  between 
the  mstmcts  and  their  execution  is  filled,  not  merely  by 
special  adaptation  of  his  actions  in  each  specific  case  but 
by  permanent  adaptations  of  habit  and  structure  which 
become  a  part  of  the  creature's  bodily  and  nervous  consti- 
tution.  A  second  nature  is  acquired  to  supplement  the  first 
The  play-built  animal  starts  with  an  imperfect  outfit  of 
estabhshed  reBexes.  but  with  the  power  to  acquire  new  ones 
apphcable  to  the  conditions  which  he  finds.  The  ready- 
made  creature  must  survive  or  perish  accordmg  to  whether 
the  world  he  encounters  exactly  fits  the  set  of  aptitudes 


ADVANTAGES 


81 


he  brings.  He  has  no  power  of  adaptation.  He  is  the  true 
conservative,  the  genuine  and  conustent  Tory  of  the  animal 

kingdom,  who  must,  by  his  very  construction  both  of  body 
and  mind,  live  by  the  plan  that  worked  well  for  his  ancestors, 
or  die.  The  play-built  creature,  on  the  other  hand,  is  partly 
made  to  order.  He  is  sent  into  the  world  merely  roughed 
out,  to  the  Old  that  he  may  be  finished  to  suit  the  market. 
His  skill  may  never  be  so  perfect  as  that  of  the  aboriginally 
specialized ;  he  will  ulways  be  a  little  hesitatmg  and  a  little 
slow.  But  what  he  can  do  will  be  more  nearly  what  the 
actual  circumstances  require. 

Man  especially,  though  he  can  never  rival  the  bom 
specialists  in  their  several  lines,  has  a  vastly  greater  range 
of  skill  to  choose  from ;  and,  through  the  instinctive  practice 
of  play  during  its  plastic  period,  his  uncommitted  nervous 
system  comes  to  embody  his  chosen  method.  He  can  adapt 
not  only  his  actions  but,  as  we  say, "  adapt  hirrue^"  to  circum- 
stances —  drillmg  his  own  body  and  nerve  centers  into  a 
special  instrument  for  the  sort  of  hunting,  fighting,  building, 
called  for  by  his  actual  surroundings. 

The  other  great  advantage  of  the  play  method  of  growth 
is  that  the  gap  left,  accordmg  to  that  method,  between 
mstinct  and  action  has  constituted  an  unoonditkmal  demand 
for  mind.  To  be  driven  on  to  action  by  msistent  instmcts, 
and  yet  to  be  left  every  day,  as  to  very  many  actions,  to 
work  out  the  specific  method  of  theu-  execution  under  the 
infinitely  varying  conditions  of  actual  life,  is  to  be  placed 
in  the  position  familiarly  known  as  up  agamst  it,  —  a  posi- 
tion in  which  you  must  use  your  mind  if  you  have  any,  and 
evolve  one  immediately  if  you  have  not  Such  necessity 
has  been,  in  most  literal  sense,  the  mother  not  only  of  mven- 
tion  but  of  the  special  organ  that  mvents  —  or  that  releases 
the  inventive  faculty.  The  demand  for  adaptation  caUs 


82  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

imperatively  for  an  adapting  plant,  a  central  office  to  whidi 

the  instant  daily  problems  may  be  referred  ;  and  the  answer 
to  the  demand  has  been  the  human  mind.  The  gap  in  man 
and  the  higher  animals  between  instinct  and  action  has  been 
filled  in  by  their  superior  intelligence  as  the  gap  between 
ground  and  fruit  is  spanned  by  the  neck  of  the  giraffe. 
So  absolute  is  this  connection  between  the  demand  and  the 
sup^y  that  the  two  kinds  of  development  -  progressive 
mdefiniteness  of  instinct  and  increasing  bram  power  — 
must  always  have  gone  hand  in  hand. 

To  enhirge  on  the  positive  advantages  of  mind  over  no 
mmd  IS  perhaps  unnecessary.   But  there  is  one  negative 
advantage  that  is  worth  remembering.   The  mmd  of  the 
play-buUt  creature  not  only  adapts  action  to  circumstances 
m  each  particular  case  and,  during  infancy,  buUds  up  the 
reflexes  to  fit  actual  conditions,  but  it  also  retains  a  super- 
visory  control  over  the  reflexes  it  has  itself  established. 
Havmg  been  there  at  "the  biggin  o't" -having  indeed 
been  itself  the  drillmaster  -  it  knows  each  reflex  from  the 
ground  up,  and  like  Napoleon>  "the  little  corporal,"  can 
at  any  time  take  the  musket  from  the  private  soldier  and 
mstruct  hun  m  the  manual  of  arms.  If  the  subordinate 
nerve  centers  go  wrong,  or  if  for  any  reason  it  becomes  de- 
sirable  to  alter  or  suspend  their  operation,  the  mind  can 
mterpose  a  veto  or  take  command. 

•nie  ready-made  animal  responds  to  appropriate  stimulus 
with  the  swiftness  and  accuracy,  but  also  with  the  fatality, 
of  a  chemical  reaction.  Darwin  tells  of  a  pike  who  was 
placed  m  an  aquarium  separated  by  a  glass  partition  from 
wme  small  fish,  his  natural  prey.  As  soon  as  he  saw  the 
fish  he  darted  at  them  and  of  course  came  into  collision 
with  the  glass.  He  repeated  this  performance,  at  intervals, 
for  about  three  mqpths,  often  striking  with  such  force  as 


ADVANTAGES 


88 


to  stun  himsdf.  Contrast  an  experiment  with  a  more 
theorizing  creature.  A  monkey  was  given  some  eggs  wrapped 
up  in  pieces  of  paper.   Then,  after  he  got  accustomed  to 

opening  the  paper  and  eating  the  eggs,  he  was  given  a  wasp 
similarly  wrapped  up,  who  when  the  paper  was  opened 
promptly  flew  out  and  stung  him.  For  the  monkey  that 
single  experiment  was  enough;  he  did  not  get  caught  a 
second  time.  But  neither  did  he  rush  to  the  otmdusion 
that  all  things  wrapped  up  in  paper  are  duigerous;  he 
simply  held  each  piece  up  to  his  ear  and  gave  it  a 
shake  before  he  opened  it,  and  so  continued  success- 
fully to  extract  the  eggs  without  again  encountering  the 
wasp. 

Or  take  the  familiar  human  instance  of  the  suburbanite 
going  to  the  train.  His  legs  carry  him  to  the  station  a  hun- 
dred mornmgs,  not  only  doing  the  walking  but  turnmg  out 
from  obstacles  with  very  little  assistance  from  the  mind. 
But  on  the  hundred  and  first  occasion,  when  a  horse  suddenly 
has  hysteria  upon  the  sidewalk,  or  an  automobile  b^ins 
a  set  of  novel  evolutions  in  the  street  where  he  has  to  cross, 
his  mind  instantly  resumes  control,  and  he  has  stopped, 
jumped,  and  perhaps  even  hazarded  an  opmion  as  to  the 
mental  capacity  of  the  driver,  in  nearly  as  short  a  time  as 
his  legs  would  have  requir'xi  to  take  a  single  step. 

The  self-taught  operations  of  the  playing  animal  are 
still  shot  through  with  mind,  which  wanders  like  a  search- 
light over  the  whole  field  of  a«^tion,  passing  from  the  most 
mmute  du«ction  of  detail  to  a  sublhne  oblivioumess  even 
of  highly  complicated  combinations.  Presence  of  mind  and 
absent-mmdedness  mark  the  varying  moods  of  this  great  ad> 
ministrator,  who  has  made  this  unskillful  body  of  ours  go  so 
far  in  competition  with  its  more  expert  rivals.  The  guinea 
pig  m  a  famous  experiment  was  much  quicker  at  the  start ; 


M  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

he  knew  it  all  much  sooner  than  the  rat   But  the  rat  fran 

^ter  all  to  know  than  was  ever  revealed  to  »ny  guine» 

by  the  genera  nature  of  the  play  instincts,  nature  has  buUt 
two  notable  kinds  of  structure:  first,  adaptation  of  the 
organism  to  actual  conditions;  and  secon,!,  the  mind  itself 
und^  whose  direction  the  adaptations  are  made,  which 
iceqw  a  supervisory  control  of  all,  and  strikes  out  new 
and  special  combinatioiis  as  emeigen<^  requires. 


CHAPTER  Vn 


PLAT  AND  TEACHING 

There  is  one  espedal  kind  of  Adaptatioii  exemplified  in 

the  play-built  creatures  and  by  man  Mpedally,  not  men- 
tioned in  the  foregoing  chapter,  which  is  nevertheless  of 
vital  importance.  I  mean  social  adaptation,  the  building 
into  the  indivklual,  in  the  fonn  of  habits  and  acquired 
reflexes,  not  moely  of  spetM  iqytitudes  to  meet  eairting 
physical  conditions,  but  of  forms  of  skill  found  by  previous 
generations  to  be  advantageous. 

Man  learns  not  merely  from  his  physical  environment 
but  from  social  intercourse,  especially  that  of  children  with 
their  elders.  He  is  the  pupil  creature.  If  experioioe  is 
the  only  school  that  fools  will  learn  at,  he  s.irely  is  not  al- 
together a  fool.  He  learns  very  largely  from  example, 
takes  advantage  during  infancy  of  his  soft  and  uncommitted 
nature  to  form  himself  upon  the  experience  of  hb  own  racial 
past.  He  thus  secnires  a  curaulalave  inheritaiice  —  each 
generation,  as  in  a  coral  neS,  building  upon  those  that  have 
gone  before. 

Man  thus  selects  his  futi«--  elf  in  the  light  of  the  tradi- 
tions of  his  race.  By  the  time  he  is  grown  up  he  is,  not  by 
intention  alone  but  by  acquired  bent,  a  citizen,  a  member  oi 
the  family  — a  hunta>,  fighter,  musidan,  artist,  hwyer, 
mechanic  —  according  to  existing  custom  and  the  knowledge 
of  his  time  and  people  His  social,  like  his  physical,  inherit- 
ance has  been  salted  away  in  his  spinal  marrow  and  is  now 
a  part  <rf  him.   He  is  in  his  habits,  reflexes,  and  very  physi- 

85 


86  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

cal  structure  the  lieir  i«     tluit  his  p«.t  genentioas  luivf 

utscuvered. 

ThisMquirement  ul  socially  developed  adaptations  has 
not  been  kft  to  chtnre.  There  is  in  every  child  a  apodal 
mstmct,  that  of  imitotion.  to  insure  his  copying  at  least 
the  more  usual  and  mm  r  striking  occupations  of  his  ekWs 
and  so  acquiring  those  f.>rn.s  of  skiU  in  which  their  special 
efficiency  consists.   Ti.e  huhan  Ixn  prartires  inc-essa-  • 
With  bow  and  arrow.   \m,mn  dvilizt  '  people  the  paren'  .1 
occupation  is  apt  to  be  leas  fasdnating  and  in  most  cu  es 
less  visible  to  the  child.    But  wheaever  by  good  luck  his 
father  does  do  a  few  chores  at  home,  ti.e  boy  fdh.vvs  hkn 
about  and  wants  to  imitate  him.    H.  ,vouM  follow  him 
w  or  to  the  hunt,  to  field  or  stable  ,   workshop,  ar  i  woi  ,1 
tawn  with  joy  from  him  how  to  make  arrows  or  Umts,  how 
to  milk  the  cow  or  shingle  the  bam,  if  he  but  h«l  the  chaace. 

Helping  mother"  i  the  smaU  eUd's  fi^oike.  as  weU  as 
his  most  troublesome,  pursuit. 
^,  The  natural  surroundings  of  a  grov.  ing  hild  i.t-lude  ti  e 
occupations  of  grown-up  life.  The  home  was  tl.  original 
workshop.  The  segregation  of  indwtiy.  wnoving  from 
the  child  his  natural  copy,  is  a  modem  and,  educatwnaUy 
considered,  a  disastrous  innovation. 

And  the  instinct  of  imitation  applies  i,  ,t  merely  in  rhe 
home.  Small  boys  instinctively  worship  bigg«  r  boys  re- 
ceiving instruction  from  them -even  when  imparted  in 
wonderfully  unsympathetic  ways  — with  a  do- Uity  that  is 
a  marvel  to  their  long-suffering  parents.  Thej-  seem  posi- 
tively to  court  abuse  from  these  fierce  pf-dago-  o'  their 
instinctive  choice.  As  they  grow  older  the  c=  dege  athlete 
or  the  great  fa«ieban  pkyer  becomea  ^r  god,  whose  manner 
walk,  and  speech  they  iwtate  and  whose  expbits  krm  ^ 
ideal  of  heroiun. 


S7 


MlvMiced  in  five 
•  igl      There  you  hftve 


Besides  uie  instincf  of  imitatton,  the  belonging  ins  met 
affofds  •  powerful  iaotiv«  if  ^fi^tiitttion.  The  cliild  longs 
to  make  good  as  a  member  ooth  ef  tke  braie  aad  of  tlie  team, 

.'ind  reliKiousIy  exer<  ises  iiioiself  in  the  means  of  doing  so. 

Convprselx   to  ni    t  t'     '  an  iif?  instincts  of  the  chil'' 
there  1  a  li  arhing  ui  niict      tfi     thf        *.   The  nnother 
rftt  wigj^les  her  t«l  t<  -  t  her  tliiltlr- n  i    tuwg  after  it,  and 
it  is  said  that  kstlen.i  ».  coa^'h 
(I.      as  uniilijc;  ted  kiir<  is  or 
t!ic  hfg[n\  nir  ()    the  school         :h(       rJa  rive  lessons 
ill  flying;  all  bir     tiiat  ar  ^kc    nging  les- 

sons. Sci(  ti  ve  1  maiMUiun  that  y  ng  otters 
are  tav^  ro  sw  s.*  An  ^  ftumans  mother  «k1  chiki 
arc  in  i  ctive^'  ^dber  tki  piqMl,  as  anyone  can  see,  tA- 
il  uigli  te  ftii  ii^ 
e\      biggci  or 

iher,  big  boy,  older  sister,  teacher. 
K»iples  <rf  thb  bstmct. 
jertary  instincts,  of  the  child  to 
-     in  met,  have  grown  all  the  indus- 
Reading,  writing,  language  itself, 
.IS  uf  this  combination,  though  the  last 
have  a  special  instinct  of  its  own. 


aH  on  one  side.   Every  parent, 

iiK.ced  every  man  or  woman,  desires 


to  .  striK+  Mother, 
prophet,  V   tcr,  ar<»  a! 
■iiit  <rf   .leac  con 

li'H  n  and  of  his  i*^- 
tr  -s  and  all  tV 
arc  amon  '  Jie  i  Hi 
.iitt,<d  seer    also  ? 


'  ^»  -ni^  from  tneir  eklers  is  as  natioal  to  diiklren  as  \/ 
;ai>i     «i   tHng,  or  playing  doll.   To  cut  them  off  from 
'     >p:    tunit   tr  learn,  whether  in  the  ho      in  the  school, 
p-  would  be  to  deprive  them  not  only 

lit"  -ssar^        ui  education  but  of  an  essential  element 
i'l  play.  The  kuidy,  untau^t  child  is  a  crudely  artificial 
•roduct.  To  leave  a  diild  alone  in  order  that  he  magr  have 
a  full  chance  to  be  hknself  is  like  giving  a  fidi  real  libtfty 

'  Oeorge  E.  Johnson  —  "Why  Teach  a  Child  to  Play  ?  "  Printed 
by  Piaygroimd  Association  of  America,  1  Madiaon  Ave.,  N.T. 


38  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

by  taking  him  from  the  obstructing  medium  of  the  water. 
Social  inheritance  through  teaching  is  as  definitely  provided 
for  in  instinctive  play  as  is  physical  inheritance  through 
bodily  structure  and  the  fixed  reflexes. 
VTeaching  is  thus  a  necessary  part  of  play  because  the 
play  mstincts  themselves  call  for  it   But  teaching  enhances 
play  for  another  reason  also  —  namely,  because  play,  like 
all  other  human  pursuits,  is  itself  a  social  as  well  as  a  physical 
inheritance,  handed  down  partly  by  tradition,  not  wholly 
evolved  by  each  generation  for  itself.   Children  do  not 
mherit  baseball  any  more  than  they  inherit  the  Lord's 
Prayer,  as  George  E.  Johnson  truly  says.   They  inherit 
tag  m  rudimentary  form,  just  as  puppies  do,  but  they  do 
not  inherit  cross  tag,  hill  dill,  or  prisoners'  base.   The  play 
instincts  are  a  constant  factor  in  every  generation,  but  their 
satisfaction  is  partly  a  matter  of  discoveiy.  The  best 
games  are  gradually  evolved,  and  handed  on  from  one  gener». 
tion  to  another.   A  good  game  is  a  work  of  genius,  a  happy 
mterpretation  of  the  inherited  spiritual  nature  of  mankind. 
Of  our  whole  social  inheritance  our  games  and  other  socially 
developed  satisfactions  of  the  play  instincts,  mcluding  the 
fine  arts  and  the  conventions  on  which  they  rest,  are  our 
most  emancipating  legacy.   Men  have  developed  expra». 
sions  of  their  spiritual  nature  deeper  and  more  satisfying 
than  those  that  unassisted  nature  ever  taught,  the  loss  of 
which  would  leave  us  poor  indeed. 

The  tradition  of  most  of  the  great  games  has  been  a  bng 
one.  Baseball,  as  we  know,  has  been  a  gradual  evolution 
out  of  rounders ;  and  ball  in  one  form  or  another  goes  back 
to  the  days  of  Nausicaa  at  least.  Football  traces  its  ancestry 
womEngliih  and  German  "camp  ball" -which  means 
K«a^«i,  or  fight,  ban  and.traces  its  lineage  back  to  Roman 
tanes  — down  to  its  American  development  under  tbe  pro- 


PLAY  AND  TEACHING 


89 


phetically  named  Walter  Camp.  Tennis  was  an  ancient 

game  when  Macsenas  played  it  on  the  famous  embassy  to 
Brundusium,  while  Horace  and  Virgil  were  kept  mdoors  by 
weak  eyes  and  a  weak  digestion.  A  rich  play  tradition  is 
a  predous  national  possession.  Our  present  games  are 
the  selected  fruit  of  centuries,  survivors  of  a  thousand  ttama 
of  play  that  all  the  ages  have  discovered,  the  accumukted 
legacy  of  eternal  childhood  to  the  children  of  the  present 
day. 

The  notion  that  play  and  teaching  are  incompatible, 
that  in  order  to  give  a  chfld  a  chance  to  act  out  his  own 
nature  you  must  leave  him  alone,  is  based  on  a  false  idea 
of  the  nature  of  the  child  and  <d  the  relation  between  play 
and  leadership. 

Frcnn  the  diiU's  power,  not  merely  of  acquiring  knowledge 
from  his  ddrn,  but  of  bong  molded  in  accordance  with 

it,  ensues  the  vast  influence  of  education.  Man  is  the  learn- 
ing animal,  the  disciple,  sitting  at  the  feet  of  his  elders  and 
being,  not  instructed  merely,  but  informed  by  what  he 
learns.  The  diiki  cannot,  it  is  true,  be  wholly  molded, 
as  unimaginative  pedagogues  once  supposed,  acooiding  to 
the  whim  or  prejudices  of  his  elders.  There  are  boundaries 
set,  both  in  his  physical  structure  and  inherited  reflexes, 
beyond  or  aside  from  which  he  cannot  be  extended.  The 
child  himself —  all  that  he  is  as  an  active  principle  — is 
contained  in  the  great  achieving  mstincts  that  direct  his 
play,  and  it  is  only  in  the  manifestation  ci  these  that  he  can 
be  made  effective.  Successful  schemes  of  education  are 
consciously  based  upon  thes  instincts.  The  kindergarten 
frankly  adopts  the  forms  of  play.  The  Jesuit  system  makes 
gteut  use  of  the  hntinct  of  competition.  Greek  education, 
tlM  mort  laooeMftil  tbe  world  hu  seen,  wm  bued  largely 


40 


PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


on  the  rhythmic  instinct.  It  b  of  no  use  to  go  outside  the 
bounds  of  nature  and  try  to  educate  a  child  who  is  not  there. 
But  within  these  limits  there  is,  though  not  an  unbounded, 
yet  an  infinite,  variety  of  choice,  and  in  this  choice  momen- 
tous issues  are  involved. 

It  is  true,  and  most  important  to  observe,  that  though 
education  is  thus  based  on  play  ii  is  not  all  play  —  at  least 
no  good  education  is.  A  circumstance  fraught  with  much 
misunderstandmg  upon  this  whole  subject  is  that  the  first 
acquisition  of  what  is  destined  to  become  an  instrument  of 
the  spiritual  life  is  not  necessarily  itself  an  exhilarating 
experience,  but  may,  on  the  contrary,  be  mere  drudgery  and 
vexation.  Discouraging  initiation  often  attends  the  course 
of  true  play,  from  the  first  game  of  tag,  in  which  you  are 
always  "  it,"  up  to  the  learning  of  irregular  Greek  verbs  — 
a  drudgery  justified  only  by  the  power  it  ultimately  confers. 
Better  chisel  your  boat  out  of  a  hollow  than  never  sail 
at  all.  The  school,  foreseeing  the  future  emancipation  to 
be  won,  leads  the  pupil  onward  even  when  the  road  is  rough 
and  hard  to  travel.  The  multiplication  table  may  not  be 
a  joy  during  the  period  of  its  acquidtbn,  but  it  is  a  key  to 
Buaxy  doors  you  wOl  be  ^ad  to  opra  later  on.  The  alphabet 
may  seem  hard  at  first  —  worse  than  learning  to  skate  — - 
but  the  fairyland  it  leads  to  is  worth  the  sacrifice. 

But  always  the  good  school  will  put  behind  the  drudgery 
as  much  of  the  living  spirit  as  it  can.  It  will  recognize  the 
value  €d  making  sacrifice  for  an  ided ;  but  it  will  not  exalt 
unconsecrated  sacrifice.  It  will  recognize  that  drudgery 
has  disciplinary  value  only  in  virtue  the  motive  that 
triumphs  over  it. 

Education  —  which  is  the  promotion  of  growth,  child  cul- 
ture—  will  indude  teadiing  both  in  the  schod  and  oa  the 
idaygnttnd;  Irat  it  will  never  OMidii^,  became  teadhiog 


PLAY  AND  TEACraNG  41 

is  part  of  the  law  of  growth,  that  it  is  the  v/hole  of  it.  It  will 
not  omit  life  itself  in  order  to  supply  one  necessary  means 
of  llvmg.  I  believe  that  man  can  improve  upon  Nature, 
that  Nature  herself  provides  for  such  improvement,  and  that 
teaching  has  a  most  important  place  in  education;  but  I 
do  not  believe  that  we  can,  for  that  reason,  ignore  what 
Nature  has  decreed.  We  can  supplement  her  law,  but  we 
shaU  not  learn  to  supersede  it  The  way  in  which  she  has 
put  It  in  the  flower's  heart  to  grow  is,  in  its  main  lines,  to 
be  its  way  of  growth  if  it  ever  is  to  grow  at  alL 


CHAPTER  Vra 


PLAY  AND  GYMNASTICS 

Plat  demands  teaching,  which  thus  becomes  a  part  of  the 
law  of  growth.  Children,  as  a  result  of  their  own  instinc- 
tive tendencies,  are  molded  upon  the  traditions  of  their 
race.  And  teaching,  as  we  have  aeen,  abo  usefully  directs 
action,  and  so  determines  growth,  eVMi  when  not  called  for 
by  the  play  instincts  :  children  may  sometimes  profitably 
be  taught  what  they  do  not  desire  to  learn. 

What  is  thus  true  of  the  teaching  of  facts  and  conventions 
is  true  also  of  drUl,  both  physical  and  mental  of  training 
as  well  as  of  teaching  in  the  more  general  sense. 

We  all  know  that  gymnastic  exercises,  for  instance,  pro- 
duce muscle  although  they  are  anything  but  play.   It  is 
evident  also  that  a  sailor  or  a  day  laborer,  whose  occupation 
must  be  largely  drudgery,  does  nevertheless  gam  physical 
development.  People  learn  the  mechanics,  at  least,  of 
playing  the  piano  by  practicing,  which  need  not  for  that 
purpose  be  play  to  the  performer  any  more  than  it  is  a  joy 
to  the  neighbors.    The  same  is  true  of  many  forms  of  skUl. 
Athletic  training,  even  when  it  b  mere  drudgery,  produces 
something  of  the  desired  result.  The  mind  itself  may  be 
developed  by  studies  unwHUngly  pursued.   Work  — get- 
tmg  a  job  and  sticking  to  it,  regardless  of  liking  or  disliking 
—  is  probably  the  best  promoter  of  the  growth  of  young 
people  at  a  certain  stage  ;  but  this  last,  as  we  shall  see  in 
the  next  chapter,  b  not  reaUy  an  instance  of  gomg  outside 
the  play  motives. 


FLAY  AND  GYMNASTICS 


43 


It  seems,  indeed,  that  not  only  play  but  any  form  of 

activity  that  exercises  an  organ  will  devdop  it.  Running 
from  a  bull,  if  not  indulged  in  to  excess,  must  be  excellent 
training  for  the  heart  and  lungs.  Even  massage  —  to  take 
an  instance  at  the  other  extrane  as  regards  intensity  of 
interest  —  produces  muscular  growth. 

Generally  speaking,  whatew  is  exercised  will  grow.  The 
important  question  then,  as  to  any  given  activity  from  the 
educational  point  of  view,  is :  What  powers  and  organs  does 
it  exercise  ?  For  it  is  certain,  at  least,  that  the  growth  in- 
duced by  it  wfll  go  no  deeper  than  the  actbn  went :  an  ovgux 
not  used  will  not  be  affected,  nor  any  organ  in  a  way  that  it 
was  not  used.  Massage  or  gymnastics,  though  they  will 
develop  the  muscles,  will  not  reach  the  mind  —  at  least 
in  the  way  that  play,  using  the  same  muscles,  would  have 
readied  it  Not  will  they  establish  the  same  rdation  be- 
tween  mind  ainl  musde.  The  arm  of  a  gymnast  is  a  good 
arm  in  its  anatomical  aspect,  but  it  is  not  the  boxer's  arm, 
nor  the  carpenter's,  nor  the  violinist's.  It  has  large  musdes ; 
but  it  is  not,  except  in  the  evolutions  that  produced  it,  the 
trained  servant  of  the  brain. 

So  far  mdeed  as  man  is  Gymnast  gymmutk;  exercise  is  an 
educadon  to  him  —  and  there  is  a  monkey  element  in  human 
nature  that  is  worth  appealing  to  at  the  right  age.  In  Ger- 
many, also,  Father  Jahn  put  behind  g^^nnastics  the  instinct 
of  patriotism.  The  Turners  saw  the  restored  fatherland 
in  thdr  swelling  biceps  and  fdt  that  as  tluy  ctrded  tlw  hu 
they  made  the  world  go  round  — as  it  often  seems  to  dizzy 
beginners  in  this  simple-hearted  evolution.  In  truth  it  Ls 
not  always  possible  to  know  just  what  a  given  exercise  will 
develop,  because  it  in  not  possible  to  know  just  what  it 
really  kk  Wecan  see  tlw  imytkms  of  tiw  arms  and  kgt,  but 
not  the  inner  motives  that  produced  them.  But  of  tiib 


44 


PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


at  least  we  may  be  sure;  that  whatever  the  action  truly 
was  —  whatsver  its  depth  or  iilidfciiiiiuw  —  the  result  will 
go  no  (teeper.  The  surface  movemoit  w3  prodaee  mdy 
surface  results.   Nothing  wiU  he  rtngtlweed  or  tttaf/jtA 

that  was  not  exercised. 

The  same  is  true  of  gymnastics  of  the  mind.  If  they  are 
men  gywmertfcs  —  the  rii  i  fiiiiHeiwji  <A  certi^  iotdectual 
movoMBtB,  witlmut  the  edistraei^  oi  a  Aepet  mlerest  — 

then,  at  most,  only  the  power  to  repeat  such  movements 
will  be  acquired.  We  may  in  this  way  develop  very  perfect 
automata  perhi^s;  bits  of  machinery  such  as  business 
men  somethna  caU  upon  the  schools  to  furnish  them, 
toned  out  to  orda>,  and  all  suffidentiy  alike  to  be  practically 
interchangeable  without  unnecessary  friction  or  expense. 
This  is  the  way  also,  carried  a  little  further,  in  which  "  smart- 
ies"  are  produced  —  little  creatures  " bright  as  a  steel  trap" 
who  can  go  through  the  motions  perfectly,  show  off  their 
school  acctnnplishments  without  slipping  a  cog ;  and  who 
manifest  as  much  development  of  heart  or  understand- 
ing, as  much  enlistment  in  the  important  interests  of  life, 
as  a  mechanical  doll.  As  Max  O'Rell  said  of  the  products 
of  the  French  schools,  "The  pupils  learn  their  lessons  so 
perfectly  that  they  keep  on  reciting  them  all  the  rest  (rf 
their  lives." 

Surface  activities  produce  only  surface  growth.  If  mus- 
cle dbassociated  from  mind,  or  mental  processes  divorced 
from  vital  interest,  were  the  true  end  of  education,  such 
activities  would  constitute  the  proper  means.  Gymnastics, 
mental  and  physical,  are  justly  dew  to  those  who  hdd  that 
thought  is  dangerous.  They  are  the  next  best  thing  to  no 
education.  They  may  even  be  superior  from  that  point 
of  view,  as  leaving  both  mind  and  body  muscle-bound  — 
producing  an  outer  shell  of  flesh  and  habit  that  is  diflScidt 


PLAY  AND  GYMNASTICS 


45 


to  break  through  and  may  imprison  thought  mora  effectivdy 
than  the  absence  of  any  development  at  all. 

But  to  those  who  desire  not  to  insure  against  education 
but  to  promote  it  —  who  would  Ubente  the  soul,  not  wall 
it  up  forever  in  a  living  prison  —  mere  surface  activity  repre- 
sents a  fatal  loss.  The  development  of  muscle  or  of  mtel- 
lectual  facility  is  to  these  not  an  end  but  an  opportunity, 
importan:  only  as  a  way  to  something  more.  Muscle  is 
valued  not  as  contractile  tissue  but  as  the  vehicle  of  wiU. 
The  question  is  not  of  meat  but  of  mind,  and  of  the  realis». 
tion  of  vital  purposes.  Muscle  and  mind  alike  are  organs 
of  the  soul,  to  be  developed  as  its  thoroughfare,  drUled  under 
its  direction  and  to  its  needs.  That  exercise  is  lost  m  which 
they  wwe  not  made  more  pervious  to  its  demands. 

And  as  the  moral  purpose  drills  the  body  and  brain  it 
also  forms  itself  —  builds  character  back  into  the  organism 
as  deep  as  quality  can  go.   A  radical  objection  to  mere 
gymnastics  as  a  means  of  education  is  the  absence  from  it 
of  complete  enlistment   It  is  a  school  of  half-heartedness, 
inducing  a  habit  of  action  that  starts  halfway  to  the  surface 
instead  of  from  the  depths.   A  man's  nature  should  be  radial, 
proceeding  from  the  central  essence  of  him  —  single,  intepal,' 
clear  as  a  beU,  sound  as  a  nut,  without  rift  or  fissure  or  any 
half  mtention.  There  should  be,  between  thought  and  act, 
no  fiber  that  is  impervious  or  slack,  no  joint  that  wobbles. 
Growth  should,  accordingly,  be  from  the  center  out,  should 
spring  from  the  inmost  d<^  from  whidi  motive  power 
can  be  fetched. 

Even  bodUy  development  is  most  successfully  achieved 
when  the  deeper  forces  are  at  work.  The  doctors  have 
long  recognised  that  healthful  ezerdae  is  not  simply  a  matter 
of  muscular  contraction.  There  must  be  an  objeet,  thoe 
must  be  interest,  there  must  be  exhilaration:  to  produoe 


46 


PLAY  m  EDUCATION 


the  best  results  the  mind  as  well  as  the  body  must  be  en- 
gaged. In  diort  the  action  that  cures  is  al(»g  the  line  of 
tlw  instinctive  interests.  Trainers  also,  whether  of  horses 
or  of  men,  give  the  same  testimony.  To  put  on  weight, 
to  gain  or  hold  the  fullest  strength,  horse  or  athlete  must 
enjoy  his  work,  must  find  play  in  it  as  he  goes  along.  A 
leg,  indeed,  can  push,  or  an  arm  muscle  contract,  in  exer^ 
dses  prescribed  by  conscience,  or  stimulated  merely  by  a 
deure  to  get  strong,  and  increase  of  tissue  will  follow  such 
exercises.  But  arm  or  leg  takes  little  comfort  in  the  work ; 
it  does  not  get  from  it  the  joy  of  full  discharge,  nor  reach 
its  highest  power  as  a  result  of  it.  You  may  put  the  various 
numbers  through  their  paces  —  following,  if  you  choose, 
the  motions  of  a  hunt  or  a  football  game ;  but  the  muscles 
know  the  diflFerence  and  will  never  fully  respond  to  such 
uninspired  command.  To  get  the  whole  growth  of  any 
organ  you  must  put  your  whole  soul  back  of  it,  because  so 
only  can  you  got  its  full  reaction. 

The  question  is  one  of  substance  and  not  of  form.  Stunts 
may  take  the  likeness  of  gymnastics ;  and  these  are  a  valu- 
able expression  of  the  fighting  and  competing  instinct.  A 
setting  up  drill,  with  such  further  exercises  as  shall  insure 
a  minimum  of  bodily  eflSciency,  may  be  made  a  ritual  of 
patriotic  observance  and  so  beo(»ne  illuminated  by  the 
great  team  instinct. 

It  is  true  also,  in  spite  of  all  that  must  be  said  of  their 
meager  educational  value,  that  even  gymnastics  proper  — 
pure  uninspired  g>  i;inastics  —  do  have  a  place  in  the  train- 
ing of  the  chfld.  They  are  often  necessary  in  the  correction 
of  faulty  posture  or  habit  or  of  physical  malformation.  But 
they  should  be  classed  with  dentistry  and  orthopedics  as 
having  a  surgical  and  corrective  rather  than  an  educational 
effect 


PLAY  AND  GYMNASTICS  47 


Gymnastics  have  their  i^ace,  but  it  is  idways  a  subsidiary 
one,  never  of  the  first  importance.  That  action  alone  de- 
velops the  whole  organbm  in  which  the  whole  organism  is 
engaged.  Man  is  inevitably,  under  whatever  variations, 
the  incarnation  of  the  great  forth-putting  instincts  that 
control  his  play  in  infancy  and  dominate  his  later  life  — 
the  instincts  of  creatbn,  nurture,  himting,  fighting,  and  the 
rest,  by  means  of  which  he  holds  his  position  in  the  world. 
Outside  the  scope  of  these  he  is  not  found.  In  the  deepest 
sense  he  is  these  instincts.  They  are  the  ultimate  fact  about 
him,  his  active  projection  into  the  world  of  being.  They 
constitute  tlw  final  and  irredudble  substance  of  whidi  he 
is  composed.  His  body  is  their  tool,  his  mind  and  hewt 
are  emanations  of  them.  A  man  who  is  not  creator,  nur- 
turer,  scientist,  fighter,  hunter,  poet,  citizen,  does  not  exist ; 
he  must  be  these  or  nothing.  You  may  prevent  a  child 
from  growing  up,  but  you  cannot,  by  any  neomnancy  yet 
ducovoed,  turn  him  into  a  bode  or  a  nia«»KliMt- 


CHAPTER  IX 


nXT  AND  WORK 

Play  is  the  foiro  in  which  the  major,  achieving,  instincts 
act  and  through  which  true  growth  takes  place.  But  is 
it  the  only  form  ?  Our  friend  the  kitten  has  been  chasing 
the  ball  —  dodging,  leaping,  pouncing,  lying  m  wait,  and 
springmg  out  on  it  She  finds  in  such  activity  the  direct 
and  glad  expression  of  her  nature.  But  behind  it  all  is  one 
controlling  motive.  You  can  see  that  to  her  the  ball  stands 
for  mouse  —  for  what  the  mouse  will  some  day  mean  to 
her  —  and  that  it  will  appear  as  such  when  she  has  got  it 
fully  and  finally  unwound.  And  then  one  day  it  w  a  mouse ; 
the  living  creature  starts  before  her  and  she  pursues.  Does 
her  interest  suddenly  cease  on  such  occasion,  and  with  it 
the  educational  result?  Such  we  know  is  far  from  being 
the  case.  On  the  contrary,  all  her  nature  wakes;  she  is 
suddenly  all  cat ;  her  feUne  soul  flames  up  m  her  as  never 
before.  At  the  touch  of  reality  the  last  internal  bwrrier 
gives  way  and  her  full  power  is  bom. 

In  the  same  way  the  boy  has  been  pursuing,  through  all 
his  childish  games,  a  phantom  stag.  Suddenly  the  real 
stag  comes  in  sight.  Is  the  chase  less  mteresting  on  that 
account?  Instead  of  finding  out  what  is  inside  his  sister's 
d<41  or  lookmg  for  new  ^imens  in  the  field  or  woods,  he 
is  nuw  tr>-ing  to  solve  some  business  problem.  The  sand 
pile  has  become  a  real  house  to  work  on.  Whittling  has 
turned  into  carpentry,  s.  ulpture,  or  manufacture.  The  fij^t 
k  a  real  fight  to  make  and  hold  a  place.  The  team  has 

48 


PLAY  AND  WORK 


beoome  a  busbest,  a  city,  a  coimtry  to  be  Mmd.  An 
these  new  purpoees  less  instinctive  thao  the  old?  Are 

they  not  on  the  contrary  objects  of  a  more  passionate  pur- 
suit, means  of  a  more  complete  fulfillment,  the  reality  of 
which  his  former  interests  were  but  the  shadow  ? 

Do  these  new  mon  lealtstic  fulfiUments  of  the  play  in- 
stuicts  still  deserve  the  name  of  play?  So  Ugh  an  mtbority 
as  Herr  Groos  holds  that  they  do  not.  He  distii^oidiet 
sharply  between  play  and  those  "serious"  activities,  serv- 
ing a  practical  biological  purpose,  for  which  it  is  the  prep- 
aratira.  And  it  is  true  that  when  these  activities  take 
pbee  after  the  period  of  infancy  they  are  no  longer  play  b 
the  seme  of  contributbg  to  powth  —  or  at  least  not  b 
anything  like  the  same  degree  as  formerly.  But  on  the 
other  hand,  considered  as  what  they  are,  not  in  their  effects 
but  ia  themselves,  as  seen  from  the  inside,  they  differ  from 
what  Herr  Groos  and  everybody  dbe  recogaJges  as  play 
only  m  bdng  more  utense.  They  proceed  from  kimtically 
the  same  motives,  have  the  same  method  of  operation,  and 
afford  precisely  the  same  satisfaction,  m  the  new  relation 
as  in  the  old.  They  are  the  operation  of  the  same  forces 
thouf^  b  a  vaon  btenae  degree  and  b  a  htgat  fidd. 

The  new  and  the  dd  fulfiUments  of  tiie  {day  hutbeta— 
work  and  play  —  are  often  even  identical  m  form.  We 
think  of  the  little  girl  playmg  with  her  doll,  the  small  boy 
with  hb  toy  bow,  and  we  say  that  real  motherhood  and  real 
hunting  are  scnnethbg  very  diffoent  But  the  little  girl 
plays  also  with  her  baby  brother,  and  the  acme  of  her 
satisfaction  comes  whm  her  mother  goes  oat  and  leaves 
him  wholly  in  her  care.  Play  is  now  m  her  case  performbg 
its  "serious"  biological  function.  You  cannot  say  that  it 
b  not  also  work  unless  you  confine  the  work  of  the  nur- 
turing instbct  either  to  what  is  paid  for,  thereby 


60 


PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


the  mo^Mt,  or  to  the  rase  ol  pby«ic»l  waalUnity,  atdudbf 
the  pftid  nur^e  of  ninety  years. 

The  little  boy  for  his  part  shoots  not  only  with  blunt 
but  with  sharp  arrows  or  w  ith  a  gun ;  and  when  he  h  allowed 
to  go  on  a  real  hunt  with  his  father  it  is  the  fulfillment  of 
hb  dreams.  What  is  the  full  play  oi  tiie  himting  imtmct 
If  itis  nothuntiDgf 

The  fights  of  gangs,  to  take  another  instinct,  develop 
insensibly  into  the  fighting  bands  of  primeval  war.  Indeed 
real  war  among  savages  or  in  barbaric  times,  or  as  viewed 
even  by  modern  aristocracies,  in  whixn  the  barbaric  tradi- 
tion is  iweserved,  is  carried  on  not  for  utilitarian  ends,  which 
the  warrior  caste  has  ever  despised,  but  for  its  own  sake  as 
a  form  of  sport.  So  children's  mud  pies  develop  gradually 
into  huts  built  an  well  as  their  toob  and  materials  will 
allow,  often  better  than  the  real  houses  ot  their  early  human 
ancestors.  The  dbeesnm  of  the  small  boy  b  carpentry, 
and  hb  achievements  in  that  tnVdctirai  will  often  overlap 
in  practicality  those  later  recognized  as  work. 

Membership,  again,  whether  in  team  or  gang,  grows 
insensibly,  as  we  shall  see,  into  political  and  social  conscious- 
ness. As  tm  iliythm  and  curiosity,  the  «qMcs«>n  ni  these 
in  play  takes  tnm  the  first  jdentkiaBy  the  same  fwms 
which  later,  as  art  and  science,  are  recognized  as  among 
our  most  serious  pursuits.  And  there  is  an  element  of  art 
or  science  in  all  first-rate  achievement,  in  g;ood  work  of  any 
kind. 

The  tnriJi  b  that  each  fHay  instinct  &xfa  in  aiqwopriate 
work  the  heart  of  its  desire,  a  satisfaction  like  the  old,  but 
with  a  new  reality  added.  It  has  tasted  blood.  Real  life 
b  normally  not  the  antithesis  but  the  compit-ted  fonn  of 
play,  its  apotheosb,  the  craoiing  true  of  all  it  propheaed. 
We  have  aU  seen  the  effect  on  a  boy  or  young  mn  of  getting 


PLAY  AND  WORK 


61 


»  job.  If  it  is  a  real  job,  with  rcbponsibility  in  it,  and  if  it 
don  not  oome  too  soon,  it  is  the  most  rapid  Icnown  promotw 
of  his  educatkm.  Under  ki  iniuaioe  the  boy  *>»*mtt 
suddenly  a  man.   You  can  see  it  in  his  face  the  first  evo> 

ning;  it  vill  affect  his  h.>dily  form  and  carriage  withm  a 
week.  Rettl  work  is  not  a  denial,  but  a  fulfillment  of  the 
great  play  instincts.  As  such  it  is  a  very  potent  means 

of  gRMTth. 

Grown-up  work,  it  is  true,  does  not  repieaent  reality 

to  the  little  child.   To  him  the  sand  house  is  still  the  leal 
one  and  th   social  order  is  represented  tjot  in  business  or 
political  organizations,  but  in  the  ring  game.   The  making 
ol  a  gieat  1%  hmue  tofivein  —  ifheiaao  fortunate  as  to 
witness  that  operatbn  —  is  indeed  a  iMciiiating  to 
watch,  as  it  is  fascinatin-  to  grown-up  people  to  watch 
the  st  irs  or  to  study  the  gro\*'th  of  trees.   The  carpenter 
is  to  hu  !  a  hero,  a  Daedalus,  a  V  .  !  <,r,d  Smith  revisiting 
this  fairy-haunted  world ;  but  hU      k     like  the  growing 
of  the  gnM8»  the  passing  of  the  iea»<     •<  .^oBmie  fact  wholly 
outside  the  sphere  of  one's  own  pfactieal  pursuits.  The  ball 
team  also,  during  its  early  sway,  is  mon  real  than  any  grown- 
up institution.   Democrat,  Republican,  firm,  or  corporation. 
Me  as  yet  mythical  and  unreal.   Governor,  president,  direc- 
tor, general  manager,  are  dwdowy  figuii-j,  far  off,  laciing 
the  color  and  compelling  reality  of  pitcher,  short  or  half- 
back.  Play  is  the  work  of  childhood,  which  no  precocious 
interest  in  grown-up  tasks  can  supersede.    Home  work,  it 
is  true,  is  real  from  an  early  age  because  home  nembership 
is  abo  real;  but  work  in  other  foims  is  still  barre   of  the 
serious  mterest  that  bebnga  to  play. 

At  a  certain  age,  however,  there  comes  a  change.  At 
fourteen  or  thereabouts  both  boy  and  girl  begin  to  see  their 
grown-up  life  as  real.  A  real  home  for  themselves  first 


52 


PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


looms  as  posnUe,  then  opens  out  as  the  most  real  thing 
there  is.  The  same  thing  happens  in  the  case  of  oth«r 
grown-up  interests.  From  fourteen  to  twenty-one — the 
apprentice  years,  justly  recognized  as  such  by  our  forbears 
— work  and  play,  the  grown-up  world  and  the  child's  world, 
eadi  contain  reality.  Baseball  and  holding  down  or  prqMU^ 
ing  for  a  job  are  both  real  life  and  both  accordingly  have  an 
educational  effect.  Finally  the  new  kind  of  satisfaction 
becomes  the  keener,  the  real  mouse  b  more  compelling  than 
the  ball  of  yarn,  the  swaying  grass  blade,  or  the  mother's 
writhing  tail,  laying  brick  more  satisfying  than  making  a 
hut  back  in  the  wood  lot,  running  an  engine  more  real  than 
running  for  a  fly,  and  we  say  the  infant  is  grown  up.  After 
twenty-one  work  alone  —  taken  in  the  broadest  sense  — 
b  ivholly  real  or  most  deeply  educational. 

True  ymtk  is  the  h^est  form  of  play ;  but  it  is  always 
the  i^y  elmoit  in  wwk  that  is  the  most  important.  The 
play  motive  is  the  deepest  and  most  serious.  It  is  deeper 
than  the  hungers:  the  artist  starves  liimscif  for  art;  the 
student  renounces  love  and  fortune  to  vindicate  his  vision 
ot  the  truth ;  the  artisan  postpones  reward  to  workmanship. 
Tht  master  d  any  calling  cues  for  his  work  first ;  the  pay 
is  secomiary.  Policemen,  firemen,  nurses,  doctors,  enginem, 
are  every  day  giving  their  lives  in  obedience  to  a  deeper 
instinct  than  the  love  of  life.  What  we  mean  by  a  profes- 
sion —  i.e.  by  work  that  b  taken  seriously  —  is  the  pre- 
dwninance  m  it  erf  mterest  in  the  work  itsdf  over  ulterior 
motives.  The  kitten  doubtkas  will  eat  the  mouse  wfam 
she  has  killed  him;  hunger  may  be  a  subsidiary  motive 
in  the  chase,  but  it  is  not  the  strongest  motive.  It  is  neither 
the  original  explosive  nor  the  directing  force;  it  gives  no 
qiec^  powers,  but  only  serves  to  bribe  the  powers  that 
ex^  What  genostes  fiffoe,  grants  inq^rtlkm  —  whalt 


PLAY  AND  WORK 


88 


tranaeends  the  instruments  it  finds  and  carms  tlie  whde 
creature  beyond  himsdf  —  b  the  active,  forth^rattinf  in- 
stinct, the  outcropping  in  hb  heart  of  those  purposes  that 
created  and  still  sustain  him.  The  instincts  to  which  this 
power  belongs  are  the  same  in  work  and  play,  the  same 
Mentical  motives  inspiring  each. 

"Not  in  the  ground  of  need,  not  in  b«it  and  painful 
toil,  but  m  the  deep-centered  play-instinct  of  the  w«^d,  in 
the  joyous  mood  of  the  eternal  Being,  which  is  always  young, 
Science  has  her  origin  and  root;  and  her  spirit,  which  is 
the  spirit  of  genius  in  moments  of  elevation,  is  but  a  sub- 
limated form  ct  fiay,  the  austa«  and  lohy  anak^ue  of  the 
kitten  ikying  with  the  entangled  skein,  or  of  the  eaglet 
sporting  with  the  mountain  winds."  So  sings  Professor  Key- 
ser  of  Columbia,  a  mathematician  who  has  gone  deep  enough 
to  catch  the  play  spirit  of  the  spheres.  Of  course  science 
is  play  — real  science,  that  b  to  say,  the  sdenoe  that  b 
the  true  adventure  of  the  mind.  It  b  the  j^y  ot  the  gnat 
instinct,  curiosity  —  exploring  the  universe,  leammg  with 
joy  its  story,  as  the  child  follows  up  the  brook  or  Ibtms  to 
the  murmur  in  the  shell. 

Of  course  art  b  play  —  the  linking  together  of  forms  and 
tones  and  cokm,  of  vmces  Mid  riiythms,  in  obedimse  to 
the  infinite  leadings  of  the  creative  instinct. 

Even  industry  is  truly  valuable  for  the  play  element  that 
it  contains.  It  b  true,  our  civilization  has  discovered  forms 
<rf  industrial  work  that  do  not  satisfy  the  human  instincts 
as  did  that  industrial  system  which  Mother  Nature  designed 
us  to  pursue  —  not  even  the  peaceful  inrtincts  of  nurtun, 
construction,  rhythm.  We  have  invented  drudgery  and 
condemned  whole  populations  to  it  as  their  part  in  life,  and 
have  thereby  introduced  a  tragedy  of  dbappointed  powcn 
that  b  the  serknis  problem  of  our  modem  world, 


PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


But  the  virtue  which  still  persists  m  duly  woric,  even  m 
its  most  desiccated  form  —  and  it  is  s  saving  virtue  after 
all  —  is  in  its  satisfaction  of  at  least  one  of  the  great  play 
instincts.  The  mark  of  work  b  duty.  Its  essence  is  re- 
sponsibility, discharge  of  obligation.  What  we  mean  by 
work  is  doing  our  part,  taking  our  share  of  the  iwrden,  hold- 
ing up  our  end.  Work  is  not  necessarily  paid  —  witness 
that  of  mothers,  housewives,  scientists,  soldiers,  leaders 
of  thought  and  conduct.  Pay  is  an  evidence  of  service, 
not  of  the  essence  of  it.  But  work  is  necessarily  something 
required  of  us ;  its  essence  is  Uie  fulfillment  of  social  obliga- 
tbn.  And  the  sense  of  social  dl>Iigatioo,  ot  holdii^  up  our 
end,  is  a  part  of  the  sense  of  membership.  It  is  a  manifes- 
tation of  the  great  belonging  instinct.  The  laws  of  society 
would  not  run  through  us  and  command  our  will  if 
we  were  not  by  nature  parts  of  society,  and  if  it  were  not  a 
part  of  us.  Duty  and  responsibility  are  motives  that 
attach  to  us  as  social  beings. 

Work  in  short  is  a  function  of  the  great  team  instinct. 
It  is  the  fulfillment  by  us  in  our  individual  capacity  of  the 
law  of  the  social  whole.  The  worker  is  the  stone  compelled 
mto  its  place,  bearing  its  particular  lAnan  aocordin^  to  the 
law  <A  the  ardi.  To  the  young  savage  wtnk  is  war ;  to  the 
Greek  it  was  civic  service,  philosophy,  or  art ;  to  the  Roman 
patrician,  administration.  It  is  to  any  man  or  woman  that 
which  the  community  requires  of  them.  The  reason  home 
work  is  real  to  a  small  child  is  because,  as  I  have  said,  he 
is  already  a  true  member  of  the  hcMne,  and  his  team  sense 
applies  to  service  in  fulfillment  of  his  membership.  The 
instinct  that  gives  work  its  special  quality,  this  leading  and 
authoritative  'nstinct,  on  which  our  whole  social  morality 
is  built,  is  the  same  belonging  instinct  that  makes  the  job 
of  quarter^Mtdc  a  sefious  affair.  Hie  nmaon  gettmg  a  job 


PLAY  AND  W(mK 


AS 


transfoims  a  young  mb's  life  is  tiwt  it  satisfies  the  gug 
instinct  mthin  him  —  the  instinct  to  make  good,  to  h§  some- 
body as  a  member  of  the  society  to  which  he  happtss 
to  belong.  It  is  as  a  satisfaction  of  the  great  »n  warn 
that  worit  is  so  powerful  a  means  of  growth. 

If  it  is  objected  to  the  above  statement  that  work  is  not 
always  a  satisfaction  of  the  team  instinct,  that  the  cat  fulfilb 
no  social  obligation  in  catching  mice  nor  the  spider  in  making 
a  web,  that  there  may  even  be  men  —  Robinson  Crusoes, 
or  men  of  a  Robinson  Crusoe  disposition  whose  nature  is  a 
desert  isle  at  which  the  tiups  that  weave  the  social  obliga- 
tions never  touch  — whose  toO  is  puidy  to  avoid  hunger, 
without  any  motive  of  making  good :  if  such  objection  is 
raided,  I  answer  that  if  such  desiccated  remainder  of  hunger- 
driven  toil  can  properly  be  considered  work  for  human  beings, 
even  then  the  argument  is  not  affected  but  only  the  definition 
of  a  word.  With  the  eKmination  of  the  play  element  of 
loyalty,  the  most  serious  element  m  work,  and  all  that  gave 
it  nobility,  will  have  disappeared. 

Play  thus  includes  all  action  in  obedience  to  the  great 
achieving  instincts  as  distinguished  from  the  hungers.  It 
not  only  creates  the  child,  but  b  the  life  also  of  the  grown 
man,  the  active  principle  that  sustains  him  and  in  the  funo- 
tioning  of  which  he  has  his  true  expression.  Work  is  the 
highest  power  of  play.  That  it  usually  contains  also  the 
other  ingredient  which  we  call  drudgery  is  an  important  fact 
and  one  that  must  be  dealt  with  kter  on.  The  thing  to 
note  here  is  that  the  soul  of  it  is  the  play  motive. 

All  pursuits  that  justify  themselves  are  play.  Play  is 
the  service  of  ultimates,  or  rather  it  is  the  ultunate  itself, 
the  satisfaction  of  authoritative  instinct.  It  is  immediate' 
living  as  distinguished  from  the  provision  of  means.  It 
repraeots  the  nmi-utilitartan  motive.  The  useful  is  that 


66  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


whichis  juitifiedbyaoiiMtlimgdte;  plagr  ada  w>  justifica- 
tkm  and  needi  none.  Beauty,  the  aim  and  flower  of  all 
true  play,  does  not  exist  for  other  thmgs,  but  all  else  for  it. 
It  b  itself  the  end,  the  final  up-against-it,  that  which  gives 
value  to  the  rest.  Life  is,  in  the  last  analysis,  a  sporting 
propottdoo. 


CHAPTER  X 


EVIDENCE 


That  play  really  is  the  positive  element  m  thegnst  plM- 
nomenon  of  infancy,  the  method  by  which  Nature  provides 
that  her  children  shall  grow  up,  seems  to  me  the  only  reason- 
able condunon  from  the  facts  already  cited  and  from  the 
more  detailed  account  of  childreii's  pby  to  be  fotind  in  the 
remainder  of  this  book. 

But  in  case  there  is  doubt  in  the  reader's  mind  as  to  this 
miportant  thesis,  the  following  provisional  summary  of  the 
facts  bearing  thereon  may  be  of  service. 

I.  In  the  first  place,  phy  exercises  body  and  mind  in  the 
actions  toward  which  their  growth  is  in  fact  directed.  It 
bids  the  hands  to  grasp  and  the  legs  to  run.  It  calls  upon 
the  heart  and  lungs  for  such  support  to  violent  exertion  as 
they  dtt  actuaUy  become  fitted  to  give.  The  exercises  it 
Pwacribes  caU  for  bone  and  muade,  for  bodily  habits  and 
nervous  coordinations,  exactly  such  aa  are  found  hi  the 
welWeveloped  man.  The  full-grown  healthy  body,  reqxm- 
sive  to  the  human  mind,  is  such  as  phiy  might  be  enMctMl 
toseo-ete. 

The  mature  mind  also,  in  its  main  characteristics,  is  such 
as  the  play  instincts  caU  for;  human  nature  aa  we  aU  reeo». 

nize  It  IS  a  realization  of  their  prophe<y.  That  man  or 
woman  comes  nearest  to  the  full  stature  of  humanity  who  is 
most  fully  a  creator,  nurturer,  citizen,  and  the  rest,  as  they 
ffcT^r**  '•^      a  liberal  education  is  education  in 

tne  AwmmiAm,  — 80  named  at  the  tfane  of  the  Rebirth  of 

87 


58 


PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


M^n  —  that  education  which  most  fully  liberates  the  great 
human  instincts  which  govern  children's  play. 

II.  Secondly,  play  activity  follows  the  order  of  actual 
growth.  The  wielding,  manipulating,  walking,  chasing, 
wrestling  pUys  aie  tevmlly  oimtemporaneous  with  the 
devdoimait  ot  the  bones  and  muscles  and  nerve  centers 
on  which  these  activities  depend.  Physiologists  find  a  close 
correspondence  between  the  development  of  various  parts  of 
the  brain  and  that  of  the  play  interests  which  correspond. 
For  us  who  have  never  dissected  a  brain  it  is  enough  to 
observe  that  the  mental  powers  —  as  for  instance  of  com- 
petition, investigation,  cooperation  —  become  established  at 
the  instinctive  periods,  respectively,  of  plays  that  call  for 
them.  We  can  at  least  say  that  if  play  were  the  cause  of 
growth  it  would  be  related  to  it,  both  as  to  form  and  se- 
quence, precisely  as  it  is. 

ni.  1 most  people  who  have  watched  children  grow 
up  will  testify  that  they  develop  more  fully  and  normally 
if  they  have  an  opportunity  to  play  than  if  they  have  not. 
Absolute  deprivation  of  such  opportunity  —  and  therefore 
the  evidence  of  its  effects  —  b  rare.  The  only  large  dass  of 
instances  I  know  of  is  that  of  infants  in  asylums  of  the  old- 
fuhioned  sort,  m  which  they  are  institution  "cases"  with- 
out substitute  mothers  or  much  individual  care.  The 
annual  death  rate  in  these  institutions  was,  and  I  believe 
still  is,  over  90  per  cent ;  and  m  the  opmbn  of  experts  this 
b  due  not  to  physical  causes  alone,  but  partly  to  the  lack  of 
mothering,  which  to  all  infants  means  chiefly  the  mother- 
play.  These  cases  present  therefore  some  direct  evidence 
of  the  necessity  of  play  to  life  and  growth. 

IV.  It  may  perhaps  be  queried  whether  the  apparent 
causal  connectitm  does  not  run  the  other  way.  **  Of  course," 
it  may  be  said,  "the  child  does  cot  use  hb  powm  until  he 


EVIDENCE  UQ 

has  them.  He  cMinot  run  without  legs,  nor  dimb  unta  his 
arms  are  strong  enough.   When  he  feels  his  strength  he  uses 

It,  but  It  does  not  follow  that  the  use  causes  the  strength." 
There  is  an  obvious  truth  in  this  suggestion.  The  chUd 
cannot  m  fact  run  without  legs  nor  play  ball  without  hands ; 
without  a  body  of  some  sort  he  could  not  play  at  aU.  Play 
must  build  always  on  the  growth  already  won. 

But  play  does  not  follow  physical  growth ;  it  is  not  a  by- 
product.  And  though  it  is  in  a  sense  the  twin  effect  of  a 
owmnon  cause,  it  is  the  enterprising  twin,  the  one  in  whom 
mitiative  appears.  The  play  of  chUdren,  as  actuaUy  ob- 
served, always  aims  beyond  ezistmg  powers.  Desire  in- 
variably  outruns  performance.   There  is  a  surplus  of  inten. 
tion  which  carries  attainment  ever  a  little  higher  but  never 
gets  quite  embodied  in  present  act.   A  child  learning  to 
walk  IS  not  driven  to  do  so  by  a  pair  of  full-formed  legs 
that  crave  such  exercise.   On  the  contrary,  the  time  he 
insists  upon  that  form  of  effort  is  the  very  period  m  which 
his  legs  will  not  support  him,  although  prophetic  of  the 
power  to  do  so.   He  practices  walking  in  spite  of  bumps 
and  faflures,  not  because  he  can  walk,  but  because  he  can't 
-•or  rather  because  nature  has  whispered  "walk"  and  he 
without  further  argument,  accepts  the  adventure  as  the  one 
self-justifymg  end  of  life.    Legs,  as  an  effective  power, 
appear  first  m  a  kicking,  then  in  a  pushing,  then  m  a  walk- 
ing^^impulse  ;  and  each  impulse  successively,  through  the 
chiW  s  obedience  to  it.  gets  itself  transUted  into  bone  and 
muscle. 

So  a  child  practices  building  with  his  blocks  not  because 
hishand  IS  equal  to  the  task:  the  period  in  which  he  puts 
most  passion  mto  architectural  pursuits  is  while  he  is  still 
dumsy  and  encounters  ten  faUures  to  one  success.  As 
•Iways,  he  is  reachbg  for  somethmg  bqrond  himself-not 


60 


PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


pushed  turn  bdibd  by  a  surplus  of  power  and  talent,  but 
drawn  on  from  in  front  by  an  inspiring  goal.  His  play  is  a 
struggle  onward,  not  a  self-satisfied  review.  He  knows  dis- 
appointment —  ev«i  to  throwing  the  eviMntentkmed  Uodc 
»way  U«  f aOing  hxaa  at  »  criris  —  and  crows  when  suocen 
ensues.  And  so  throughout  pUy  life:  catching  a  faster 
runner,  making  a  better  throw,  a  longer  hit,  a  more  daring 
climb  —  always  a  new  stunt,  a  fresh  perfection  —  is  the  goal. 
Play  is  ever  the  reclamation  of  new  territory,  it  is  the  chiM's 
nature  reaching  out  for  fresh  worids  to  conquer.  Habit, 
reflex,  and  coordination;  muscle,  bone,  and  lung  pawtst; 
follow  in  its  wake. 

Similar  to  the  suggestion  that  bodily  structure  may  direct 
the  course  of  play,  rather  than  vice  versa,  b  U&h&i  Spencer's 
theory  that  play  is  the  result  of  surplus  energy.  The  play- 
ing animal,  he  thinks,  has  more  vital  force  than  he  needs  for 
purposes  of  subsistence,  reproduction,  and  defence  against 
his  enemies,  and  th :  surplus  bursts  out  of  him  in  play.  But 
as  Herr  Groos  has  pointed  out,  this  theory  does  not  account 
for  the  particular  form  of  play,  nor  for  the  fact,  which  he  has 
observed,  that  animab  will  stnnetimes  play  when  they  are 
tired.  Children,  of  course,  frec.uently  exhaust  themselves, 
to  the  danger  point  and  beyond,  in  their  games  and  races. 

That  play  does  ha\  e  a  particular  form,  that  kittens  play 
in  one  way,  puppies  in  anotht  r,  young  lambs  in  a  third,  etc., 
will  I  suppose  be  generally  conceded.  That  children  es- 
pedally  have  instinctive  tendencies  to  play  in  certain  definite 
ways  is  a  proposition  that  will  be  abundantly  illustrated  as 
this  book  proceeds.  Meantime  I  may  cite  some  facts  that 
point  in  the  same  du^ection.  W.  W.  Newell  for  instance,  in 
hb  "Games  and  Songs  of  American  Children,"  pomts  out 
that  most  of  our  American  gunes  are  found  all  over  Europe, 
that  some  have  a  range  covering  nearly  the  whole  worki. 


EVIDENCE 


61 


and  that  many  are  extremely  ancient.  Aristotle  attribute! 
the  invention  of  the  rattle  to  Archimedes.  Balls  were  used 
for  playing  at  least  as  long  ago  as  Atalanta,  or  her  inventor. 
Dolb  an  found  in  the  pyramids  of  Egypt  and  in  the  Cata- 
oombs.  In  the  New  Testament  thcfe  k  the  case  dted 
of  children  sitting  in  the  markets,  and  calUng  unto  thdr  fdk 
lows,  and  saying,  We  have  piped  unto  you,  and  ye  have 
not  danced ;  we  have  mourned  unto  you,  and  ye  have  not 
lamented,  which  evidently  refers  to  some  sort  of  clap  in  and 
hiss  out  game  such  MBtin  exists.  Dnunatk  representations, 
dancing,  and  ball  games  are  found  among  many^  if  not  m- 
deed  among  all,  savage  tribes.  Many  other  instances  of 
parallelism  in  distant  times  and  places  and  degrees  of  civili- 
zation could  be  cited. 

The  surplus  energy  theory  is  correct  in  one  sense.  If  the 
animal  had  no  meigy  unexpended  he  would  not  play.  In 
the  same  sense  Raphael  produced  the  Sistine  Madonna 
because  he  was  possessed  of  surplus  paint.  But  it  b  also 
true  that  to  account  either  for  play  or  for  the  Madonna 
there  must  be  some  more  positive  principle  at  work. 

Causes  are  not  visible  in  this  wiwid  except  to  the  intro- 
spection of  a  conscious  agent.  "StAtody  can  see  that  {day 
causes  growth  any  more  than  he  can  see  what  makesa  stcme 
drop  or  salt  dissolve.  But  we  can  see  that  growth  follows 
play,  takes  the  form  it  calls  for  and  at  the  time  it  calls,  and 
we  can  partly  see  that  it  does  not  take  place  without  it 
I  believe  the  difficulty,  if  there  is  any,  in  recognizing  chil- 
dren's play  as  the  directmg  principle  of  growth  is  chiefly  m 
the  fact,  already  mentioned,  that  the  evidence  of  it  is  so 
funiliar.  It  is  a  power  that  is  ahnost  visibly  at  work  in 
every  chiM  during  every  waking  hour  of  the  day,  and  it  is 
hard  to  stand  away  far  owui^  to  get  a  realixing  view  of  it 


MICROCOPY  RESOIUTION  TEST  CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


A   y^PUEU  IN/MGE  Inc 


BOOK  n.   THE  BABY  AGE 
CHAPTER  XI 

THE  FOUB  AGia  OF  CHILDHOOD 

Play  is  growth  under  the  supervision  of  the  great  achiev- 
ing instincts,  the  chief  of  which  are  hunting,  fighting,  creation, 
rhythm,  nurture,  curiosity,  and  team  play.  These  form  the 
constant  element  in  the  child's  life  and  become  the  warp  of 
the  resulting  fabric. 

But  these  instincts  are  not  all  equaUy  active  all  the  time, 
livery  one  knows  that  a  growing  child  passes  through  sue 
cessive  phases.    The  games  that  most  delight  him  m  the 
nursery  are  scornfully  rejected  during  the  succeeding  period  : 
the  rmg-around-a-rosy  loses  its  magic  power,  the  hobby- 
horse IS  bequeathed  to  a  younger  brother  or  turned  out  to 
pasture  on  the  rubbish  pile,  the  mud  pie  is  stricken  from  the 
bill  of  fare.   And  as  the  eight-year-old  scoffs  at  games  of 
make-believe,  so  also  the  budding  half-back  despises  tag 
and  prisoner's  base;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  the  child  of 
four  feels  no  need  of  competition  nor  the  subadolescent  of 

T^^lT  J^*"*  •  "^"^  '"^'^'y  ^  S^^^'  but  in 
the  child  s  whole  attitude  toward  life.   Prom  dwelling  m  a 

world  of  imagination  he  turns,  superficially  at  least,  first 
into  the  most  literal  disciple  of  the  Baconian  school  and  then 
m  the  case  of  boys,  into  a  member  of  the  fierce  man-pack  of 
the  pre4>arbaric  period.  And  these  stages  follow  each 
other,  m  spite  of  vast  mdividual  differences,  in  a  fairly  uni- 
form and  regular  pw^ression. 


THE  FOUR  AGES  OP  CHILDHOOD  63 

T^*         ^- wear  quite 
at  the  beginning  nor  aU  at  once.    Some  are  on  hand  and 

a  e  held  back  for  several  years :  team  play,  the  last  to  ap! 
^IZT  'f?'  thereabouts.   And  each 

k  f  !r  °  ^P"^^"^  during  which 

on  the  resulting  growth.  There  is,  as  Roebel  long  since 
taught,  and  as  the  more  prosaic  psychologists  are  beginning 
te  discover  in  the  life  of  the  chOd,  as  in  aU  kindsTSfe,  f 

Its  preferred  opportumty  to  assert  itself.  There  b  a  time  for 
impersonation  a  time  for  construction,  a  time  for  running 
games,  as  tndy  as  there  is  a  time  for  puberty  or  ^^e 
smh-year  molar.  The  sequence  is  as  fixed  in  mentri  as  in 
^dy  growth.  The  whole  tree  is  already  present  in  the 
aeed,  but  there  is  a  buddingH)ff  time  for  each  of  the  great 
branches  of  which  its  finalfbrm  is  to  consist 

Not  only  do  the  diffe«mt  instincts  unfold  at  different 
to^.  but  each  instmct  appears  in  successive  incarnation.. 

T  ^^'l  "1^**°^'        ^^"riosity,  which  first  urges 
iiLt  ^  .  to  get  the  feel  of  thmgs^ 

T^^'  °°  testing  their 

practical  ^ect  The  constructive  instinct,  which  fii^t  pre- 
scribes  mud  pies,  is  afterwards  expressed  not  only  m  every 
variety  of  material  structure,  but  in  song  and  V^etT  b 
^ml  organization,  and  even  in  theories  and  h^le!! 
Tl»e  rmg-around-a-rosy  is  reincarnated  in  the  home,  the 

ba^ban  team,  thebusiness  organization,  the  state  and  nation, 
nie  contmuous  scraps  of  the  pugmuaous  youth  have  their 
flower  m  social  and  bu«ness  courage  or  become  incwnatein 
the  fightmg  leader  of  a  peace  society. 
And  the  first  form  of  an  instinct  may  be  v«y  diflbrent 


64 


PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


from  that  which  it  is  destined  finally  to  assume -a  fact 
not  yet  recogmzed,  even  in  this  day  of  the  apotheosis  o 
evocation,  by  those  educators  who.  in  their  zeal  for  wha 
they  deem  the  practical,  insist  on  pinning  the  fruH  to  the 
first  sprout  that  appears  above  the  ground.   The  voluble 

tion  m  the  mnesses  of  dolls  presage  a  medical  career. 
future  architect  may  find  his  sense  of  form  first  in  music  or 
m  dancing.   The  infant  statesman  is  very  probably  e^cil 
ing  his  eloquence  in  showing  that  he  was  not  out  at  firi 
hs  oration  agamst  Catiline  is  rehearsed  as  he  points  out  to' 
comrade  or  opponent  the  exact  nature  and  degree  of  his 
error  m  some  pomt  of  the  game    More  likely  still,  it  is  the 
persistence,  nerve,  and  selfHK,ntrol  which  the  game  demands 
hat  wil  most  contribute  to  his  forensic  j^wer.  JndeS 
there  is  almost  a  presumption  that  the  spiritual  force  develop- 
^  any  given  play  will  not,  in  adult  life,  appear  in  anything 
resemblmg  its  present  form.   If  it  looks  like  a  rose  now  tt 

are  that  it  will  not  be  a  rose. 

As  an  explanation  of  the  progression  in  the  fonn  and 
emphasis  of  children's  play,  there  is  undoubted  truth  in 
what  IS  caUed  the  theory  of  recapitulation  -  the  idea  that 
m  the  sequence  of  his  play  impulses  the  chUd  repeats  the 
sto^  of  the  race,  reaching  the  successive  stages  oTgrowth 
m  the  order  in  which  his  ancestors  passedT^ugh^S^r 
The  facts,  including  those  of  embryology,  seemTjustify 
thB  supposition.    Nature  indeed,  as  Herr  Groos  has  jiinted 

text    she  has  told  the  stoiy  so  often  that  she  has  learned 

^tlnZTo  t  "'^^'^  P-^es  and  to  give  sp^^ 
attention  to  the  more  important;  but  the  plot,  and  the 
sequence  of  the  principal  scenes,  is  much  the  in^ 


THE  FOUR  AGES  OP  CHILDHOOD  es 

The  theory  is  Uluminating  in  its  suggestion  of  what  to 
^ok  for,  but  It  should  not  be  aUowed  to  run  away  with  us. 
We  are  not  requu-ed  to  find  that  the  development  of  the 
child  exactly  proves  the  theory,  or  to  make  it  do  so.  Qbser- 
vation  «  after  all  the  only  test.   Above  all,  we  should  not 
get  confused  upon  the  moral  issue.    We  are  under  no  obli- 
ga^on  to  put  our  chiWren  through  a  tedious  course  of  un- 
edifymg  experience  because  their  ancestors  were  so  unfor- 
tunate  as  to  be  subjected  to  it.   Primitive  man  has  no  moral 
standing  m  the  case.   The  question  is  not  what  he  did  or 
suffered,  but  what  we  want.   Not  his  misfortunes  or  short- 
commgs,  but  our  own  moral  sense  must  be  our  guide. 

It  r^ults  from  the  successive  appearance,  varying  phases, 
and  differing  periods  of  stress,  of  the  several  Zy'LZ 

fh     ^^^J'^  P'""^^  °'  ChUdhood  is 

thus  divided  mto  different  ages,  fairly  well  mar.ed,  ea^h 
dominated  by  one  or  more  instincts  that  color  for  a  time 
tlie  whole  process  of  development. 

First  there  is  the  period  of  babyhood,  from  birth  to  about 
three  years  old,  during  which  the  chUd's  life  is  largely  in  his 
r^ion  to  his  mother    Then  comes  the  dramatic  a^,  from 
tf^to  s«  m  which  the  impulse  to  impeisonate  colors 
*Imo8t  aU  of  his  activity.   Next  appears  the  age  of  self- 
assertion,  or  Big  Injun  age,  from  six  to  eleven,  domimited 
argely  by  the  fighting  instinct ;  and  then  the  ^  of  loya^ 
from  eleven  on    The  first  two  ages  are  the  sfme  inC 
«Bd  girk   In  the  third  there  is  a  little  difference  in  cha^ 
^^mlZ."  ^"^^^^-floyaltythedivergence 

lin^'^hT  ?  1 TT 

T^'^r    Z  "  •  """^  ^^^^^^     ^  overiap. 

Ihe  dramatic  mipulse,  for  instance,  shows  itself  very  early 

-I  have  known  a  little  girl  to  put  her  doU  to  sleqi  before 


«  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

'  ' ^M^l'^ ^"  «  subordinate 
capacrty.  untU  long  after  its  special  period,  -  sometim^ 
even  beyond  the  fourteenth  year.  So^L  the  Cairo" 
elf-asser  ion  often  shows  itself  before  the  age  of  sk;  and 
though  It  loses  Its  dominating  position  w^n  the  ige 
loyalty  begins,  it  nevertheless  continues,  in  a  subord^ate 
capacity  tijrough  the  rest  of  childhood  and  ladeed  thrrgh 

rT,nn"    I   J    ^r"""  ^as  its  rc^ts 

Xv    Butlh  fi"* 
thl  ^  I        ''P^'^*"^       ^^finJte  boundaries, 

these  different  phases  clearly  enough  exist  and  are 
generally  recognized.  ««*u  iire  very 

In  practical  dealing  with  children  in  their  play  such 

cSTr  r  Akindofplaythatsuite  a 

ch  Id  at  the  dramatic  age  will  almost  certainly  disgust  a  Big 
Injun.  whJe  what  is  a  necessity  of  life  to  the  latTmay  bf 
who  ly  uninteresting  in  the  succeeding  period.  The  prin- 
cipal cnticwms  of  the  kindergarten  are  based  upon  its 
obvious  inappropriateness  to  the  Big  Injun  age  Such 
^irT.  T  u  T"^''  -"^"^endatioi^,  foJ  if  Z  kiS 

to  tiie  child  of  the  preceding  dramatic  age  whom  it  ^ 
designed  to  serve. 

J^\r^I-^  ^*  "^"^^  "  educational  ^ork  to  distin- 
guish  th.  different  periods  of  growth,  but  it  is  necessary  to 
observe,  within  each  period,  the  budding<,ff  place  of  Lh 
majorinstinct.  I  once  knew  a  smaM  dog,  whose  hind  legs 
had  been  injured  when  he  was  a  puppy,  and  who  in  con^ 
qu«ice  had  first  learned  to  run  on  his  front  legs  -  in  a  most 
ludicrous  position,  like  a  man  walking  on  his  hands.  The 
.esuh  was  that,  although  he  had  afterwards  learned  to  run 
in  die  usual  canine  position,  he  always,  whenever  he  got 


THE  FOUR  AGES  OP  CHILDHOOD  67 

excited  and  wanted  to  go  especially  fast,  cocked  himself  up 
on  his  front  legs  and  so  could  make  but  little  progress.  His 
front  k«8  haymg  got  their  education  when  he  was,  as  regards 
locomotion  m  the  learning  business  -  whfle  his  hind  legs 
had  put  off  their  trainmg  untU  after  that  time  was  pasS 
-It  resulted  that  whenever  the  depths  were  stirred  his 
hmd  legs  were  automatically  switched  off  and  his  front  legs 
switched  on    His  mis^ucation  at  the  stage  when  learning 
to  nm  was  his  especial  business  was  thus  a  perpetual  handi- 
cap. A  faUure  of  any  education  at  aU  at  that  time  would 
have  been  less  disabling. 

The  stressthat  Nature  lays  upon  certain  hnpulses  at  cer- 
tain tunes  IS  not  a  casual  or  an  isolated  suggestion  on  her 
part  It  means  that  she  has  made  all  her  arrangements  to 
have  the  prescribed  exercises  registered  in  actual  growth  at 
just  those  seasons.  The  brain  centers  that  direct  the  pre- 
scribed  activities  are  then  being  developed;  the  muscles 
and  bones  especiaUy  needed  in  their  execution  are  getting 
their  set  and  girth.  It  is  the  time  at  which  precisely  those 
aercises  wiU  take.  And  at  no  other  moment  will  they  take 
so  well.  .  " 

With  some  instincts  indeed  it  is  now  or  never :  they  cease 
altogether  and  leave  no  trace  if  not  salted  away  in  habit 
during  their  special  period.   William  James  believed  that 
such  was  the  general  kw  of  instinct,  and  cited  to  that  effect, 
among  other  evidence,  the  fact  that  a  chicken  wiU  learn  to 
follow  the  hen,  or  apparently  any  kind  of  animal  that  walks 
before  ,t  during  the  first  few  days  after  it  leaves  the  shell; 
but.  If  advantage  b  not  taken  of  this  brief  period  to  give  the 
instmct  a  chance  to  operate,  it  wUl  never  learn  to  follow 
anybody    The  instinct  lapses,  and  if  not  registered  as  a 
habit  while  It  IS  stiH  in  force,  wiB  have  no  permanent  effect 
In  man  the  more  important  instincts,  at  least,  do  not 


M  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

«tuj|y  l.p«,  though  some  phases  of  them  pM,  .way.  But 
tlwr  time  of  stass  passes,  and  with  it  the  time  when  they 
«»  b.  mott  rf«tivdy  rt^nped  up„„  the  body  and  Und 

eatehhm  young.    The  reason  the  «t»t.  of  th.  lleL«n« 

possessed  the  technique  of  their  pref,«tf„„  „ 

w>  that  tkQT  feamed  it  young.   Their  hands  w.  -  trained 
dunng  the  mwual  perkrf    g„^.   The  hand  J^, 
artists  have  m  most  eases  w«lri  untU  it  m«      late,  so 
that  they  always  hesitate  and  stammer.  Hey  d. 
know  the  bu^ness  themselves  but  have  to  L  LveJ 


with  wntmg,  dancmg,  general  handiness.   It  is  so  «J 
I»«ntly,  ■„  the  ease  of  every  i„st«,ct.   Pew  men  have  ^ 
«  W  m  shooti.^  or  fishing  who  did  not  learn  U  "uIT 
A  boy  who  does  not  pUy  «rf  scrap  with  other  boys  wL"  he 
B  .  boy  w,ll  always  be  a  UtUe  m«de«ly  -  the  go^d  mter  i' 
made,  or  at  least  eonflrmed  in  his  enviable  emX  „  „ 
«rly  age.   If  you  would  a«,„ire  a  Freneh  acX^i  " 
P«VMl  up.,  your  p.„nts  to  get  you  a  Freneh  ^^e"^ 
when  you  «e  rf»ut  two  y«ir,  old;  you  are  th»  iTZ 
bumm.  fearmng  not  nttrdy  w»ds  (you,  v^bu! 
la-y  .s  not  so  remarkable  as  you,  mother  thinks],  but  Xt  fa 
of  mo«  eonsequenee  in  this  eonnection,  the  sounds  JXl 

0*  love  of  ph„,te  „d  ^  <^ 

tn,ct,ve  mugmatfon,  of  power  along  eaeh  of  tie  gr^at 
rad>.  o  the  expanding  soul.  It  is  «,  even  of  such  sS 
a5L;.,:at.ona  as  8  love  of  Scott  or  Dickens. 


THE  FOUR  AGES  OF  CHILDHOOD  M 

In  short  the  f «st  of  tot  importance  «  regards  the  chUd 
s  that  he  grows,  that,  like  every  growing  thing,  he  passes 
tlm,ugh  successive  periods,  and  that  a  periodoinje  ^ 
mU  not  return.   Carvediera,  make  hay  while  the  sun  shb^ 
Jhfte  whJe  the  iron  ,s  hot  -  proverbial  admonition  to  tim^ 
lutes,  anphes  with  especial  force  in  education.   In  matter^ 
of  growth  opportunity  does  not  recur.  When  Nature  asks 
your  cooperation  m  her  plans  she  means  now:  time  is  of 
the  essence  of  the  offer.   In  the  development  of  the  growing 
child  potential  faculties,  in  the  form  of  instinctive  ^2! 
appear  each  m  ,ts  turn,  asking  to  be  woven  into  the  fabric 
ofhishfe.   To  the  extent  to  which  e«.h  impulse  is  follow^ 
the  corresponding  faculty  is  «5q«ired,  aid  the  m 
becomes  so  far  complete.    If  the  prompting  is  ignoiS.  Z 
opportunity  passes  and  the  power  it  offered  is  for^T  A 
^ctmust  be  made  welcome  when  it  knocks,  or  the  man 
m  never  poss«s  the  power  to  give  it  utterance.    It  is 

1^ Ifi  S  ™  "  ^  longings 

unfulfilled,  a  hmdrance  rather  than  a  means  of  life 

tJr„  "  "  f       ^  ^^^dhood  which 

•  ;*«fd\on  to  Man-and  which  must  be 
80  taken  u  ^  Jestiny  is  ever  to  be  reached.  The  fairies 
come  bear.ng  each  her  gift,  but  the  chiW  must  reach  out  and 
take  it  or  it  is  withdrawn. 


CHAPTER  XII 

WHY  GROWN-UPS  DO  ifOT  UMDBHnAMD 
what  i,  w„„h  doing  and  .he  tSlrSnL:'.™; 

?,Z"o  "  •       ^  •  o'  play  activitv 

from  a  primary  to  «  aeoonduy  phc,  fc,  tk,  l».  .1,  j  • 

the  individual.  PW*  in  the  Ue  and  interest  of 

A  form  of  play  which  has  for  a  time  held  the  cat»  «l 

other  man.esuC<^:,ClhS:ro:rc:.^^ 
mwts  but  survive,  in  an  .tt«,„,ed  form.  iS^^^y  o 

"ster.   The  high  school  youth  occasionally  unbends  in  . 

nate  «inot  to  be  a  member  of  any  representative  nine  c™ 
tmucs  nevertheless  to  play  baaebaH.  though  in  . 

h«  high  school  or  freshman  days.    Gmwn  dZi,^ 
|-0«.puhan  their  juniors,  if  gLn  ^Ur.CtuZrrlZ 

m  the  deU  -  w,th  much  spirit  and  abandon. 


WHY  QROWN-UPB  DO  NOT  UNDERSTAND  71 

Nature  seems  to  desire  this  sort  of  renewal  of  the  old 
expenencea,  this  pkyful  revival  of  those  "  beautiful  days  of 
youth  when  we  w«t,«,  unhappy."  She  wants  her  chUdren 
to  go  over  their  back  le«on..  to  mdce  sure  they  have  not 
forgotten  something.  But  she  wants  it  done  in  a  not  too 
careful  way.  You  should  be  free  of  the  ball  field  now,  havin. 
^n  the  right  to  play  -  in  this  new  and  frivolous  sense - 
o-ce'.both  to  you  and  her.  no  joking  matter. 
wo!!l  ni    •  secondary  form  of  pluy  that  the 

word  p  ay  IS  especially  appUcd  by  grown  people.   It  is  «,ch 
return  to  the  form,  but  not  the  substance,  of  our  youthful 
gamw  that  gives  to  most  of  us  our  sole  idea  of  what  pky  it. 
And  soOecause  what  was  once  advance  has  now  become 

iZ'^A  ""^^  '"""^y  possessed  the  seriousness  of 

We  and  death  is  now  a  matter  onjy  of  recreation,  we  think  it 
was  always  so.  The  "old  man"  thinks  basebaO  is  basebaU 

and.  forgetful  of  his  own  boyhood,  assumes  that  what  it  now 
«  to  him  It  always  was.  and  must  be  to  his  son.  He  con- 
^  the  necessity  of  "wholesome  exercise."  believes  in 
l^X^t  *r  """^^nt  a  good  thing;  but  asks 

what  IS  the  fun  of  going  at  it  with  such  a  disproportioned 
senousness  getting  tired,  worrying  about  who  wL.  He 
may  not  ask  the  hero  of  the  winning  team,  as  his  mother 
awnetimes  does,. whether  he  is  not  getting  overheated;  but 

uLl"r^.-^*tJr""*°'^'*^^^^^'-  Hence  the  mis- 
understandmg  between  f.th«s  ^  sons,  mothers  and 

cmtn^'  "t"  ^T"P  "^"'•^  '^'Kotten  worM  of 

^Udhood;  hence  the  failure  to  see  in  pUy  the  one  most 
serious  busmess  of  every  child. 

of  I^.- ^^^""^  ^  ^iff^^ent  view 

of  hfe  and  death.  But  these,  in  applying  their  mature 
busmess  attitude  of  mind  to  their  sin^  pLuits,  ^  b 


n  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

regarding  victory  not  as  part  of  the  game,  but  bb  a  busineas 
wbch  the  piay  and  training  represent  simply  the 
OMtby,  permt  the  natural  play  atUtude.  and  are. 
upor.  the  whole  the  grMtott  nuisanoe  in  the  educational 
world  to^ay  The  same  thing  is  lanrdy  true  ol  colle^ 
a^umn.  and  the  sort  of  pressure  they  bring  upon  the  und«! 
«^uat^  n  such  cases  the^e  is  a  seeming  memory  of  the 
■«ioume«i  of  pUy  which  is.  however,  in  reality  the  impounc 
upon  play  of  a  falae  and  alien  ieriouae«i. 

But  as  to  all  kinds  of  play  e«5ept  high  Khool  and  college 
sports  -  and  for  the  most  part  in  the  case  of  these  also - 
grown  people  naively  assume  that  play  is  to  the  child  what  it 
would  be  to  them  to  do  the  same  things,  outwardly  speak- 
ing.  that  the  child  is  doing.   Mothers  bdeed  usually  do 
understand  the.r  babies,  and  know  a  little  something  even 
about  their  children  of  the  dramatic  age.   They  do  not  for 
the  most  part  assume  that  paddling  in  the  water  is  to  their 
five-year^ld  just  what  it  would  be  to  them.   But  as  to  chil- 
dj^  b^ond  the  age  of  aix  the  understanding  even  of  mothers 
mostly  Stops.   "My  dear  chiW.  how  can  you  like  to  get 
your  hands  so  dirty?"   "What  «  ♦Kk        *  i    •  .. 
themes?"   "tZ,1      ^T."  phiying  with 

K  ,,  .  '  ''^'"^'"^  °»  ^  8»te.  throwing 
snowballs  at  the  butcher,  and  getting  my  dre^  tornTZ 
d«idftU  way  :  why  should  yauf  Even  if  they  refrain 
ff^m  saying  it.  that  is  usually  the  sort  of  thing  they  think. 

A  certam  pale  mterest  in  the  child's  normal  pursuits  most 
grown  people  will  concede  as  natural  -  the  interest  of  a  shade 
revisitmg  h.s  former  haunts ;  but  that  these  pursuits  should 
be^  they  really  are,  matters  of  life  and  death  passes  their 
power  of  unagmation.  In  fact  the  one  point  of  view  that 
does  seem  to  survive  in  fuU  force  from  their  own  chUdhood 
»  the  mabihcy  to  understand  those  younger  than  them- 
selves.  Just  as  the  boy  of  eight  thinks  that  it  is  silly  of  his 


WHY  OROWN-OTS  X)  NOT  UNDiSiSTAND  78 
little  sister  to  play  ring-around^-rosy.  so  the  hoy',  fath. 
Xrj^^irL""'  j-ple-hearted/thinlc  t^^ti: 

"r*^     ■  action  prescribed  to 

forty,  and  i-At.  «po„  hi.  «.ally  unportant 

n«««ng  of  wrious  unpoiiince  we  assume  that  the  samp 
m«st  be  tj.eforourchad»„.bo.  We  do  "haTto 
^ed^Udh.  play  Shis  real  life;  the  «p«.don  in  ji  ^ 
the  same  mstincts,  .n  the  same  in,p«.tive  mood.  tliU  mmn 
our  own  most  cherished  work. 


i 


CHAPTER  Xin 

MOTHER  PLAT 


Every  mother  will  remember  the  first  time  her  first  baby 
^ed  at  her  She  can  still  reeall  that  wan  ray  that  wavered 
aci^  h«  hitherto  complete  solemnity.  -  so  brief  that  she 
could  hardly  behcve,  the  next  moment,  that  the  miracle  had 
happened.  And  certainly  in  some  ways  it  seems  a  miracle. 
How  did  the  baby  know  that  there  was  anywhere  in  the 
world  someone  who  could  understand?   From  what  experi- 

.  ^.'^^r        ^'^'^^^^      "^"tual  sympathy? 
Had  he  studied  the  combined  sensations  that  his  mother 
produced  m  him  and  inferred  that  she  must  be  a  conscious 
being  like  himself?   The  trouble  is  that  he  was  not  a  con- 
scious  bemg  and  did  not  know  he  had  a  self.    In  truth  he 
d.d  not  learn  about  his  mother's  sympathy  from  external 
evidence  at  all.   All  that  experience  told  him  was  "This  is 
sue.     He  had  mstinctively  expected  her.   And  his  smile  is 
in  recognition  that  his  expectation  is  fulfilled 
_  The  child  assumes  the  presence  of  his  mother  in  spirit  as 
inevitably  as  m  the  flesh.    He  turns  to  her  eyes  for  sym- 
pathy  as  mstmctively  as  to  her  breast  for  food.   The  baby's 
smile^oes  forth  into  the  world  as  the  messenger  of  an  un- 
conscious  faith,  evidence  of  an  intuitive  presumption  that  eyes 
were  made  to  see  and  hearts  to  understand.    The  chUd  does 
not  proceed  by  the  inductive  method,  inferring  his  mother 

iZ^'u  P^^"T^"^-    «^  •-'^P^  by  a  single  intuition 

into  the  heart  of  this  relation.   What  he  does  in  the  fulfill- 
ment  of  rt  is  an  elaboration  upon  a  whole  already  divined 


MOTHER  PLAY 


75 


This  vast  assumption  of  the  presence  of  at  least  one  con- 
scious being  possessed  of  sympathetic  interest  is  to  be  hence- 
forth  the  basB  of  the  child's  life.  His  mother  is  not  merely 
a  part  of  his  enviromnent;  she  is  his  world,  the  medium  in 
which  all  his  acts  take  place,  the  atmosphere  wherem  he 
lives  and  moves.  There  will  be  henceforth  a  social  dimen- 
«on  to  every  happening,  a  social  reference  in  all  he  does. 
The  exploit  is  not  real  to  him  until  he  sees  it  reflected  in  her 
eyw.  She  is  his  public,  his  test  of  significance,  his  standard 
of  the  real. 

There  is  no  end  to  the  variety  or  the  depth  of  mutual 
understanding  that  the  child  seeks  and  finds  in  this  relation- 
ship.^  Watch  any  baby  playing  with  his  mother -the 
meeting  and  parting,  pretended  quarrel  and  reconciliation, 
yieWrng  and  opposition,  confirmation  and  surprise -and 
you  will  see  that  there  is  no  form  of  mutual  sympathy,  no 
shade  or  incidence  of  joke  or  challenge  or  repartee,  that  these 
two  do  not  share.    The  basic  social  achievement  of  establish- 
ing community  of  feeling  between  two  human  beings  is  ac- 
complished through  the  medium  of  instinctive  mother  play 
It  is  m  this,  his  earliest  social  world,  this  happy  society 
of  two  which  he  is  born  into,  that  the  child  first  finds  his  life. 
V^ithout  It  even  his  physical  existence  wiU  hardly  be  con- 
tmued.   The  death  rate  in  infant  asylums  is,  as  I  have  said 
over  90  per  cent  a  year,  partly  because  the  child  in  such 
institutions  bcks  his  natural  playmate,  because  not  merely 
the  physical  basis  <rf  his  life  but  the  spiritual  counterpart  L 
absent. 

The  social  instinct  of  children  of  this  first  age -from 
birth  to  three  years  old -is  chiefly  toward  their  elders; 
their  need  of  association  with  their  contemporaries  is  as  yet 
but  very  sh^t.  But  among  grown  people  their  acquaint- 
ance  begms  veiy  early  to  cnlMge.  Other  chanwtws  beaidea 


78  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

the  mother  are  introduced.   The  hahv  *    •  ^ 

that  he  p.,e.  to  be  carried  by?lS^"of^S'il::^' 

creature,  fa  a.,„  ve-y  ,ooi 
t«  ».   up  .„  the  yayer."  .„d  to  supply  ,.ther  c.tacCi' 
•nd  «d>Uaratmg  experiences.  Children  like  the 
■    ^  men,  the  f«ling  of  p„tection  of  rtrong  anm"^ 
^ssunng  vcce,  the  robust  outride  .tLph«e 
breezy  vBitors.   They  sink  back  with  completest  reskn^Z! 
J^conteotn-ent  when  their  father  c^^^^Z 

Conversely,  the  nurturing  instinct  seems  to  be  almost  a, 
ftrong  ,n  men  as  it  is  in  women.  It  is  a  sigm6cMt  frlL 

Sv^^u'ck^th"'  ^^<J.'t^^ 

hMmdmcntarymammaiy  glands.   The  mother  sense  is  i^ 
the  father  also;  «,d  the  child  instinctively  sustT,  th^ 
c..her  half  of  this  relation.   Whether  „  not  ht 
toncal  connect™  between  fatherhood  and  fighting 
^ve  our  guess  upon  the  subject -I  tlk 

midren.  I  remember  mstances  of  such  who  deliehted 

th^  tof  rr,"!""'  an  important  part  in  establishing 
these  first  social  relaUons,  People's  love  for  their  children 
gm™  by  playmg  ;Md«„ 

effeo  of  touch,  especidly  with  the  hand,  is  reciprocal  The 
cWd  s  affecfon  gn,ws  „  his  hands  pass  over  hi,  mother-s 

«  he  holds  them  over  her  mouth  when  she  tries  to  ^ 

merits  But  the  mother  is  not  foolish  in  her  desu^  to  bZ 
her  baby:  tiie  spiritual  bond  is  tightened  akmHirh  Z 


MOTHER  PLAY  „ 

*^cal.  And  the  father  need  not  be  morbidly  afraid  of 
Mother  Nature,  who  prompts  it,  h«iLn  .  few 
Mton  b.b«  po,  up  b.f,«  he  w«i  bom,  and  she 

perhaps  «mueh  as  he  about  the  baby  b««„ea^ 

An  uiteresthg  and  momentous  expression  of  the  Mdal 
uKtmet  m  ehddren  of  this  age  is  that  of  Unguage  ^ 
this  g«atot  of  our  mstitutions  are  visW^n  tSr 
mstaefve  pUy    01.  „,  eonversation,  the  melting 

17  unTt  r  ^  *°  Mother  a^d 

chUd  underetand  one  another  before  «iy  word  has  been 
spoken  on  the  oneside,  or  any  sensible  and  articulate  sylS 

sUl.  superfluous ^^rJ^^^^T^l^ 
^th  betwee  ,  lovers  and  others  who  have  ree^l^T^ 
gold.   Suehcommmuon  is  a  «>use  of  language, 

But  ttere  .re  other  Muroes.   The  baby  likes  to  he  and 

a  tune,  the  resources  of  his  vocal  organs.  Like  many  or^or. 
heloves  sm,ply  to  exercise  his  mouth  and  lun^^C^ 
h, «  much  hke  Humpty  Dumpty  in  his  em^^oyZt  S 

ehoosM  a,em  to  mean.  A  woiU  of  significance  is  oackeH 
mto  the  few  syllables  of  the  ftst  'p^a^,^^  ^ 
Stand  no  nonsense  in  this  matter.  Whatev^.,.;  ^e 

uThlT^'  of  'xd'  meaning 

A.t  they  get  results.   Rrther,  n«th.,,  ,n  grown-Z 

*e  w,de  sweep  of  his  voeal  radius,  spring  to 

br«f  oracular eomnands.  -B^tf^ti,,^^^ 


78  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

tion  among  the  sounds  he  makes.  He  finds  that  some  of  them 
th«)ugh  association,  contract  definite  relations  to  surround' 
mg  ob,«rt«  or  to  reactions  m  his  satellites.  He  tries  them  ; 
and  lo  1  thmgs  happen-  and  so  there  grows  up  for  each  a 
specific  use,  and  there  begins  for  him  a  maste^,  of  man's 
most  wonderful  invention  -  a  vocabulary 

In  the  whole  matter  of  language,  whether  in  words  or  in 
^e  earher  fo^  of  gesture,  imitation  plays  an  important 
part  The  child  copies  a  gesture,  a  sound,  a  sneeze.  His 
mother  smiles  and  repeats  it.  The  child  does  it  again,  with 
a  saucy  look  and  ntonation.   It  soon  becomes  a  and 

take  that  the  one  word  or  movement  can  convey.   Then  he 

Always  with  children,  I  think,  as  with  other  people,  the 
essen^al  thmg  in  conversatioa  is  not  the  conve^g  of 
formation  but  the  establishing  of  mutual  sympathy  and  the 
p  easure  of  mutual  intercourse.   That  is  why  chUdren.  like 
their  elders  ask  questions  when  they  care  little  about  the 

say  fall  back  on  something  not  so  new.   Endless  repetition 
of  the  same  questions,  jokes,  even  of  the  same  grunte  and 
squeals,  attests  this  perennial  desire 
The  child  is  thus  a  social  being  from  the  very  start.  His 

Z^JtfZ  "  ^         '^^^y      or  his 

s  omach  food.   Indeed  the  doctors  sa,  .hat  the  first  use  of 

^  "T  VT  ^^  ^  sometimes  he  will  not 

even  take  his  first  breath  until  he  needs  it  for  that  purpose 

7h^.*r^^       purely  social  phenomenon,  possible  onlj- 
where  there  are  friends  to  listen  and  bring  help. 

Our  first  practical  conclusion  is  thus  the  ancfent  one  that 


MOTHER  PLAY 

the  infant  needs  bis  mother  not  merely  as  a  means  of  s.,^ 
tenance,but  asameansoflife.   It  is  for  I" 

ch  Id  If  they  can  possibly  be  kept  together.    And  i*  U  tZ 

wttB  your  own  baby.   Nurse  Urn  if  you  can  h„t  in  . 
c^e  give  him  hi,  bath  and  play  ^  ^  Z  ^ZZ 

with  the  first  baby,  and  act  the  ba.helo,  -.ncte.  But  out 
the  baby  a  h«  anus  and  leave  them  to  fight  it  out  Wh™ 
you  com.  .0  relieve  hin,  the„  .iu  ^e  Uttle'dolTbouri^C 

Or  if  you  have  chwge  of  chiWrH,  whose  parents  have 
d.ed,  or  who  must  for  any  reason  be  separated  (r^  tZ, 
find^the.  who  wUl  be  parents  in  their  pL  xi^^u^^ 
«  not  of  physical  but  of  spiritual  parenthood.   Where  Ae 
chdd  h.,  known  and  Wed  a  mother,  where  his  ins&rt  h^ 
found  and  closed  upon  its  counterpart,  her  loss  wM  live^ 
sad  vo,d  m  his  life.   But  fortunately  the  jl! 
young  chddren  is  seldom  tenacious, 'and  ^^ty 
^befiUed  by  one  who  has  the  qualities  and  thewiSToflST 
mt  ,^  „  the  way  of  preserving  both  spiritual  and  phS 
Me  B  the  teitunony  of  .0  competent  observers,  and  ^ch 
l^^y       P''<^- of  the  majority     pubfe  J  privlt 
chanties    Where  the  institutional  methrf  i.  stifl  foS^ 

»  ^^h,  presiding  over  a  small  "familv"  of 
chUdren  «.d  pioviding  them  with  something  apZ^ 
as  nearly  as  possible  to  home  life  "pproaciung 

lone-of  not  as  a  rule  singing  or  r<Hddng  them  to  d«ip, 


80  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

of  not  insisting  on  their  active  and  strained  attention  during 
every  waking  moment  -  is  a  vast  boon  to  modern  childhood 
«pec.any  m  th«  country,  where  the  perpetually  noticed 
chirked,  stunulated.  and  therefore  abnormally  "cute"  infant' 
phed  with  candy  and  caresses  the  more  relentlessly  the 
more  his  wails  proclaim  his  aching  nerves  -  is  father  to  the 
victim  of  Americanitis  and  other  forms  of  nervous  break- 
down.  The  baby,  like  the  locomotive  engineer,  needs  a  few 
hours  off.  To  stu.  the  lamentably  precocious  child  to  a  con! 
toiuous  performance  of  pert  question  and  retort  for  longer 
houi^  each  day  than  any  grown  person  could  possibly  endure 
IS  a  form  of  child  torture  which  should  be  forbidden  by  law 
and  from  which  we  are  happily  learning  to  refrain. 
JfT"^  to  the  need  of  being  sometimes  let  alone  is  the 
diJds  frequent  de«ue  for  a  simplification  of  his  world. 
It  IS  said  that  human  beings  learn  more  in  their  first  four 
years  than  m  all  the  rest  of  life,  and  it  is  sometimes  racking 
to  the  nerves  even  of  these  easy-going  philosophers  of  the 

l^r'S^'"-  ^'•^^^""^      t^^t  rate  all  the 

time    Speed  m  the  presentation  of  new  subjects  should 

Trf  r  A  *°      ^^^^^^'^  ^^P^  -  three 

years  old    A  child  often  cries  because  life  is  getting  too 

ndeed  there  is  too  much  world.  He  feels  with  Emerson 
that  things  are  of  the  snnke.  There  are  too  many  alterna- 
tives too  many  demands  upon  his  attention.  He  feels  the 
doisteral  desire :  he  wants  to  go  back  home. 

ohL  Z'J^T^^f^'  simplifying  lif e  to  a  very  smaH 
cbld  -  chief  of  which  is  to  refrain  from  complicating  it  by 
too  many  toys^oo  many  people,  too  much  change  of  scene 
Besules  the  need  of  quiet  there  is  the  need  to  orglze.  tTget 
back  whea.  there  are  few  objects  and  aU  of  the^  fam^li^,^ 
set  ones  house  m  order,  unify  one's  worid.  The  secret  of 


MOTHER  PLAY  gj 

rest  is  order,^  a  place  for  everything  and  everything  in  its 
ptace  - nothing  left  flapping,  nothing  ambiguous,  problem- 
atical. The  mind  instinctively  insists  on  order  as  a  pre- 
requisite  of  sanity.  It  holds  at  least  to  the  oi^anization 
of  ail  inner  circle  of  environment,  a  home  field,  a  place 
to  shoot  from -what  I  imagine  the  psychologists  call  a 
>olid  apperceptive  basis  for  further  acquisition  -  a  first 
immediate  world  that  it  can  swing. 

A  mechanical  device  that  has  proved  itself  useful  in  meeting 
the  child  s  need  of  a  simpler  universe  is  the  pen -not 
literary  but  restrictive -the  small  inclosing  fence,  about 
three  and  a  half  or  four  feet  square  and  about  two  feet  high, 
that  can  be  set  up  in  the  nursery  or  parlor,  on  the  piazza  or 
out  of  doors.  Whatever  the  exphmation.  the  pen  has  been 
discovered,  experimentally,  to  have  a  pacifying  effect.  A 
child  put  into  it  in  full  cry  will  often  become  immediately 
silent  and  happily  absorbed  in  some  familiar  occupation  with 
doU  or  blocks.   In  dealing  witL  the  fretful  child,  at  It  ast,  the 
pea  w  mightier  than  the  word.   Iricidentally  it  is  an  excellent 
place  to  learn  to  walk,  the  excursion^  bemg  short  ari  the 
fence  a  good  height  to  hold  on  by. 
Entire  solitude  is  also  good  (or  the  practical  solitude  of 

age),  whether  in  the  pen 
or  othmnse,  not  only  as  a  sedative  but  as  an  opportunity. 
Even  tlie  chUd's  active  Kfe  should  not  aU  be  social.  There 
should  be  a  time  when  the  swimmer  is  left  wholly  to  the 
water  to  let  it  hold  him  up.   The  significance  of  baptism 
IS,  I  always  think,  surrender  to  the  spirit  -  the  river  knows 
the  way.   At  all  events  the  child  should  have  hours  -  lone 
umnt«mpted  hours  -  in  which  to  find  himself,  to  think  Ws 
own  thoughts  act  out  his  own  dramas,  try  his  own  experi- 
ments, hum  those  endless  sagas  hy  which  the  play  of  the 
solitary  child  is  invariably  acoompanied.   There  should 
s 


^  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

on^  «tion  proceeding  f™„  the  indivUualt^n  J?"  " 

The  child-,  37^^^™""""-!'  <'°-- 
iaving  .  ,peei»,  pla^^orj^JS"-  °' 
eontinued  in  the  <rm„„  „       >     <»n«<nu»I  occupation,  is 

•ociety  J  s^ftuT  th!""   • "     °'  '"'"""^ 
fet""  or  c^v«,        •  1 "ot  only  in  the 
«*m<*mj^  r^Ll*^'  <P^<^  for  sulfa). 

ButletustL^tSTw^"^"^  " 
our  American  tendency.  ?U  wdXTSf^^K"  u 
tte  iabit  of  going  to  sleen  hrk-     ,,  ^-^''' 

when.  onfin.Ily^';'^,,"^^ ^«  P"^™'  But 

iave  once  found  hta  rtA  to  ^  tr"* 

of  his  crib,  you  ZyT,c^,r^ 

«.ti«ly  abdicate  eZwrerS^^^l^i 

JO  of  the  whole  teuden,;"  t  ^  , 

starvation  is  not  the^  ^rj'^r^'- ,  P^H-tual 
eating.   Even  sod.)  in^Lr^i  P<="''  of  oveiu 

«udf  socie^  Z^i^  ?  """""^       to  too 

ov.«ivili«d,  nor  the  Uby  heL^t  t^i  ?k 

artist.  ^  *"       baby  vaudeviUe 

-ughhecannot-'itptdtZ^r.^^^ 


MOTHER  PLAY  33 

a  day,  the  child  is  none  the  less  a  social  being  and  craves 
a  social,  not  an  exdusively  vegetable,  existence. 

Nor  is  there  any  talisman,  as  reactionaiy  mothers  some- 
times thmk,  in  stolid  stupidity  in  the  dukiran's  nurse 
Mind  is  what  the  child's  mind  strives  most  to  establish 
connection  with,  and  the  fitness  of  his  attendants  is  not  in- 
creased by  the  absence  of  that  organ.  There  is  such  a  thing 
as  calm  without  stagnation.  And  to  the  child  as  a  social 
creature  a  numan  though  not  a  fus^  environment,  and 
especially  a  mother's  understanding  and  reciprocation,  is 
the  first  essential. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

MANIPULATION 


„  JY""'""  "•"'through  thepoorerqu.rt«.«f„,ycity«rf 
w»teh  what  the  ™.ller  children  .re  doing,  you  Ub^Z 

TlZ^!         '7  ""J^W"*  definite  .t 

•U  -  «ythlng  bo^ond  running  about  Md  squealing  or  gazing 

Trlten  L«t  -        taken  to  theajv^f 

*r»*»  fl«i»g  it  with  din  from 

the  street,  tippmg  it  out  on  the  sidewaUc  or  the  how  rt~ 
•nd  then  gathering  it  up  again  «,d  repeating  th.^^^ 

teft-  you  «dl  ob«nre  ,  mnikr  phenomenon ;  indeed,  you  will 
^  the  same  sort  of  thing  gohg  .„  ^t,  a« 

toow  tow  ohUdren  like  the  seashore.   Some  people  thi" 

Mpecially  the  waves;  but  I  doubt  whether  most  children 
care  chefly  for  the,,  thing, -at  leart  until  th^  „  rfd 
»ough  to  get  their  feet  wet.  mat  they  like  at  i^ZZ 
I  I."';  ^-dl  when  it " 

we  hke  t  better  md  the  chiM,™  like  it  just  as  well  A 

t^.t  .s  the  nght  height  ,„  sit  on  -  for  children,  when  you 
"me  to  thmk  o.  it,  Uve  in  a  world  that  is  aU  tabha  «d 


MANIPVIATION  ,5 

floors  — what  grownup  people  eta  duin  M..  ^  kij. 
thjt  your  leg,  hMg  down  i^rin^  bdn,  „  U,h 

What  the  child  wants,  and  will  find  if  he  U  not  utteriyrt«^' 
^««mty,  i,  things  to  work  on  -  somethi^H^SZ^ 

of  his  desire  »^  '""I  »  th.  uivarwble  instrunHat 

In  this  manipulating  instinct  we  touch  aomMkin, 

descnhng  that  which  h.,  «dly  «^ed  the  hZ  Th! 
hand  ,s  also  the  instrument  of  the  child',  faa^towl^ 
masteo-  of  the  outside  world.   If  it  caches  d^tC^ 
^,  «d  ev.n  the  voice,  as  a  bearer  of  the  affH^io^Tit* 
SOU  more  the  special  organ  of  the  will    t»,»  u  u  , 

1»  do.  Hi.  active  faatinc  fln^'tU 


80  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

issue  in  the  hand;  his  mind  it  focused  on  H  and  onwhat 

:t  does.   To  act  is  for  him  to  handle,  to  manipulate. 
And  as  with  action  and  emotion,  so  with  knowledge  also. 

J^W^J"  ^  » ''^^  t«  e^^'^mine  is 

^  Thro"8i»M'e  the  real  isto  mankind 

the  tangible.  The  doubting  Hwummi  may  refuse  the  testi- 
mony  of  his  eyes,  but  what  his  hand  reports  is  final  fact. 
To  mankind  to  the  child  the  hand  is  at  once  the  executive 
member  and  the  means  both  of  feeUng  and  of  knowing 
m  the  deq>est  sense.  ^ 

The  n«on  is  not  difficult  to  find.  Man  as  a  race  is  largely 
the  creature  of  this  especial  organ.  It  is  pecuKarly  the 
human  member.  It  was  the  cunning  hand  that  produced 
the  cunnmg  mind  by  providing  an  instrument  fine  enough 
torequue  and  to  follow  its  discriminations.  The  hand  was 
«8«itial  to  the  rise  of  man,  as  Anaxagoras  is  said  so  long  ago 
to  have  maintained;  and  it  is  stiU  essential  in  the  gro4h  of 
every  member  of  the  race.  As  the  cat  conjugates  "catch",  so 
we.  both  as  a  race  and  as  individuals,  are  creatures  of  the 
infinitely  ncher  conjugation  "  u,  manipukte. '  Man  and 
manual  mean  much  the  same. 

It  is  for  this  reason  that  manipuhition  bears  so  large  a 
part  ,      :ldren  s  play.   The  child  is  buUt  up  around  the 
hand;  .    etermmes  the  form  of  almost  all  his  early  traininir 
because  such  has  also  been  the  education  of  the  race.  We 
are  aU  of  us  most  literally  hand-made. 

Gra^piy.  The  first  notice  the  baby  takes  of  his  father  is 
usually  to  seize  him  by  the  finger,  or  haply  by  the  nose  or 
the  moustache.  And.  his  grasp  once  established,  he  holds 
on  like  a  young  crab,  until  you  wonder  how  you  will  ever  get 
away.  And  m  general  the  child's  first  use  of  the  hand  is  in 
gnwpmgwithit  asawhole.  Wheth  this  is  because,  after 
*U  these  generations,  his  instinct  harlcs  back  to  the  days  of 


MANIPULATION 


87 

and  his  power  of  doing  so.  is  remarkable.  I  know  i 
father  who  I  fted  his  Uby  ly  ^im  U>  JZ  u^ 

thumbs,  and  kept  up  this  vne&»  ^  *h.«  li^  *^ 
lapsed.  *^  that  the  powwr  new 

u^^Hl^'lu^'  •"''^•"^  »  *o  hold  himself  to 

He  not  only  want«  the  earth,  but  does  not  c^Zlfae^ 
he  gets  how  of  he  puts,  if  possible,  in  his  mouth,  and  tSI 
mouth  existence.  ""plutically  hand-to. 

ne  railed  the  alimentiuy  aeries.  But  to  tlw  eMd  m—rin,- 

out  .,r,se.    Nature's  method  of  thus  intnistili/to  I» 

™  B  OMiacterotic,  and  is  of  especial  importance  in  the 
»«ons  espeoaUy,  the  end  is  not  foraeeen  in  the 


88  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

IZ^'tV  stoiy  le«b  on  to  the 

nert,  but  the  page  uinot  turned  untU  the  leader  gets 

The  putting-in-the-mouth  impulse  ceases  after  a  time 
bemg  m  the  nature  not  of  the  great  instincts  that  run  throueh 
life  and  are  necessary  to  its  continuance  or  transmission,  but 
of  those,  hke  the  chicken's  instinct  to  foUow,  which  be^me 
precipitated  m  the  more  specialized  form  of  habits  «,d 
then  are  allowed  to  lapse. 

Wielding  and  Striking.   Then  comes  the  wielding  instinct 
There  are  some  things  too  large  to  swallow  and  not  prt 

InaTKT^'^'^''''^'  cool  and  smooth, 

and  he  child's  gums  are  hot  and  troublesome,  chewing  ma^ 
be  Uieir  chosen  destiny.   But  soon  another  use  s^^reste 

"^^r^^^^^^^^^-^-d-PlytotakehS 
tbn^  and  shake  them.   He  wiU  seize  and  brandish  any 
object  that  IS  at  all  suited  to  the  purpose,  -  a  spoon  stick 
pencil,  watch,  or  block, -and  become  much  S.ld 
look  quite  fierce,  in  doing  so.   Afterwards,  well  satisfied  with 
the  results  thus  far  obtained.  -  unless  indeed  he  hTp^ns 
to  bang  himself  in  the  head,  an  obstacle  not  as  yeT  wSl 
chart^  in  the  mind  and  often  getting  in  one's  way  -  he 
may  find  banging  on  the  floor  or  on  his  tray,  or  pounding 
one  block  on  another,  desirable  variations  becausT ofZ 
good  resistance  encountered  and  the  pleasing  sounds  pro- 

^^^""^^  to  strike  things 

with  a  rtick  or  weapon  of  some  sort. -an  instinct  which 
goes  on  developing  far  past  this  early  stage  and  upon  which 
a  great  group  of  games,  including  basdbaB.  hockiy.  polo, 
golf,  and  tennis,  is  largely  built. 

Weupan.  and  Tools.  Here.  I  take  it.  enveloped  in  these 
Wielding  and  striking  instincts,  is  the  beginning  of  the 
useoftools.  ManisthetooH,earinganimal  isuppl;^^: 


MANIPULATION 

most  practicaUy  important  event  in  the  history  of  our  «c. 
w«  when  one  monlcey  was  chasing  another  "nd  aXJ^ 
fc«Ae  off  m  the  hand  ot  the  pursuer,  and  when  the  1^ 
.nst.«I  of  U,^^  ft     u,  ^  - 

E  w^'tJ""      r*      "a-"  -er'the  head 
mat  was  the  ongin  of  tools.   From  that  day  OnnM  the 
chief  ,oport«,ee  of  the  hand  has  been,  as  before  d^rf 
^  «I.pt.bility  as  a  soelcet  for  .11  Lds  of  to^S 
04«  Mund*  „  Dim^in  pointed  out,  are  linuti  to  o^ 
sort  of  worltmg  end.  Tk^y  have  eUws  lilce  tf.e  eat  a  ZdZ 
like  the  beaver,  a  club  Uke  the  hor«,  a  nair  „f  °i' 
the  wolf,  and  are  linnted  by  the^^^Tt^^ 

f^l^™'""'"'""™^^-  alone ean  eh^^ 
faahim  hi,  own  uistruments  and  have  at  his  arm's  end. 
d^w  .  pridb;  ,  chA,  .  pair  „,  pincers -^rr^^  l 
pamt  brush  oieroseope,  „  ^  _ 
the  thousand  tools  and  weapons  he  ha.  ^ITt^ 
hand,  wonderful  as  are  its  di«et  uses,  c^ZtZe  ^ 
torn  the  half  of  what  it  has  if  it  eould  not  hrveZs^ 

thmnf'T"'     ''^  i»»ti»ctive  aim.  there  is 

thus  placed  not  a  single  prescrib«l  implement,  b^wS^" 

It  IS  lar^y  to  his  tool-wielding  power  that  naa'.  ... 

pr«Daq-  .s  due.  If  the  two-handed  but  thumbLT^ 
or  ^elephant  ^th  his  single  hand,  have  advl^^ 

"d^eTulHf 't^^J^IT    "        '"^'^  ^ 


90  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

f-Zr'^^^-  "^f^^l^  vWbly  «  the  h«rf 
hranAshed,  becomes  a  club  or  sp.de  And  Z  AM. 
^Ul  focu,  shifts  from  the  spoon  itself,  as  a  fo.^^  Xt 
to  b.  »bd«d.  to  the  thing  he  is  attacking  with  the  swT 

Thlt^  t"'  'T''  •"'^  "  »»»  »'^^ 

ihat  has  become  his  working  end. 

The  institution  of  private  property  rests  first  upon  thU 

to  say  he  wJl  be  protected  by  the  community  in  his  use  and 
^t.on  of  them  and  wiU  bepemitted,  wi^in  w^deTn^;' 
to  do  w,th  them  as  he  chooses  -  for  the  »me  «««,„  tbTS 
^Ae  „ndi.g  right  and  protection  as 

Property  means  that  which  in  the  natmH 
things  belongs  to  you -what  goes  with  you  makeTvon 
c.mplet..  Toolsgowitham«,„.blade^wS^"Jfe 
Tools  are  a  part  of  us ;  our  personriity  «4ids  to  the^t 
^y  as  to  our  hands  and  feet.   The  e«p«rt.,  ^ifa 

SrST"  r^l"  ''".'n'*™™nt.   Tools  are  exempt  from 
the  nght  of  c«iditon  in  bmkruptcy  as  a  part  of  the  sZ 
reformwh^  exempted  the  debtor's  body-'lhe  laws  f^' 
the  races  of  ,  .en,  m  asserting  the  woAnian's  right  to  hi, 
toob,  a,  to  his  body,  against  all  the  world,  haveXt  ^ 
n»d  what  the  dhUd^s  instinct  has  all  along  afBn^ed  ^ 
The  right  of  the  duld  himself  to  his  plaything,  to  the  an- 
]»opmte  object,  to  wield  and  shd«  and  us.  re  ,^  on  Z 
»n.e  basis,  with  only  this  differenw  that  in  to         fa  nt 
.  question  of  cutting  off  a  limb  but  of  prev"  angTH^ 
b«ng  devd^ped.   The  instinctive  e^sr "o?  ^hfTuZ 

"™  MM  legs.  Toob  are  in  the  specifications;  they  are 


MANIPULATION 

Woe  to  i«.n<s^^^r;  -  L""^'™'^*^ 

«h««t,  fed  what  thQ,^  ute    Ch^S^  ""T  *™ 

or  gravel  in  th«,  ^Xl    j  i     r™'^"       «°  ««ke  sand 
r  gravM  in  their  hand  and  then  tip  t  out  and  watch  it  f.ll 

and  W.11  contentedly  =0  o«„py  th«n«lve.  for  ZTJjl' 
The  mampulafon  we  have  noted  in  the  chUd  JtLT*^ 

CmM  Interwoven  with  the  manipulatine  „..oi„. 
and  wridjng  i.^  i,  au,t  of  posa^ion  and'^^3' 
The  receptacle  habit,  „  ill«^ted  in  the  use  of  Te^ 

itirr  o'^^fTh-;:  'U-^teTiT 

stea^hip  line.,   I  doubHh^^  1^7  ^°  ""^'^ 
special  love  for  railroads.   He  was  no  .  Xd  ^ 

t:t^vl  ^^  "  colleots^,^:^; 

rtamp,.  TItt  motive  in  all  such  cases  is  tl..,  love  of  mTtm. 
of  gettag  hold  of  «,»rthing  you  can  swing  -  andlhX^ 
the  thing  the  more  fun  it  is  for  voii    Tkl  , ., "°  ™«  "'SS" 

A  speculfascmation  of  the  ball  is  that  it  mov«X Tfw 
rtgo.  The  definite  throwing  instinct,  a  contrib^"^ 
of  «.  nuny  ball  games,  also  asserta  itseU  in  thi. 


92  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

The  ball,  furthermore,  is  mentally  acceptable.   Unlike  the 
rest  of  th»  perplexing  world,  it  is  the  same  shape  however 

for  the  hand.   And  it  is.  better  at  least  than  any  other 
object,  a  convenient  measure  of  all  outward  things.  Apples 
P^ches  nuts,  beads^buns,  and  marbles  are  just  balls  unde; 
different  names.  The  world  moreover  i.,,  pragmatically 
speaking,  made  up  of  things  that  you  can  roU  and  things 
you  can't.   The  wheel  or  cylinder,  whidi  shares  the  roU^ 
property,  IS  after  all  a  sort  of  sliced  or  stretched^ut  bZ 
A  world  of  balls  and  not-balls,  at  all  events,  is  easier  to  under^ 
stand  than  one  of  hairpins  and  not-hairpins,  or  one  built  on 
any  other  practicable  classification.   The  ball  is  the  key  of 
knowledge  because  it  opens  the  most  gates.   Man  is  a  baU 
placer  partly  because  he  is  a  ball  thinker  also. 

tr^l^''''  ""^''"^  """"'^"y  J«  °f  importance 

from  the  veiy  first  m  children's  play.   All  activity  has  of 

course  a  mental  element,  just  as  all  thinking  is  a  kind  of 

Tn  nnv  T  f^T-  ^""^"^  "^^^'y  dimension 
in  all  his  acts,  the  child  has  a  special  instinct  both  to  measure 

^d  organize  his  world  upon  the  one  hand  and  to  push  foi. 

wiud  Its  frontiers  on  the  other  -  to  explore  and  to  assimilate. 

vnn       1*  '^"^  of  his  hand 

youwdlofte  see  hmi  stop  and  examine  some  little  object - 
a  straw  or  stone.   When  he  tips  the  dirt  out  of  his  tomato 
can  onto  the  sidewalk  he  does  so  partly  that  he  may  study  it 
The  sidewalk  is  his  operating  table,  and  you  will  see  him 
separate  out  smaU  pebbles  or  particles  of  sand  and  examine 
tiiem  with  great  attention.  A  child  crawling  about  the  floor 
^11  pick  up  a  minute  thread  from  the  carpet  and  look  at  it 
a  long  time  and  with  all  his  eyes.    The  value  of  having  two 
hands  and  not  merely  one.  like  the  elephant,  is  seen  in  his 
tearmg,  dissecting,  examining,  in  this  early  pursuit  of  sdimce. 


MANIPULATION  93 

"-^ ""^  °'  '^'1  almost 

«»m  the  v«y  art.  The  malfcrt  child  U  «dentist  as  well 

a^mn  ofaouon.  The  h«,d  is  «n-«.t  .f  the  mind  «  Id^ 

rawing  if  """'^        l-fa  Paii  whe«  he 

anfttfr  T^*  ™™«  Ws  arms 

and  toing  to  turn  over  in  his  crib  -  "expaimentotion  " 

«  -^times  called  -  whS  occupy  2ik 

o^e  d,Ud  s  toe,  and  have  been  so  much  dcscribS^^  m 
destt.  18  not  merely  to  conquer,  but  to  explore.  He  attacks 
these  outlyn,*  territories  -  his  arms,  legs  etc.  -  not  m^v 
.»  order  to  push  his  jurisdiction  »u,ther:b„t  to  fy 
members  and  see  ,^at  ser,.ice  can  be  expected  from 
^d  he  could  not  tell  you  -  any  mo«  than  European  dipT 
CtiZj  to  their  dealings  witK  the  DaA 

ContaKnt-where  leaves  off  and  assimilation 

In  the  child's  exploring  and  assimiUtmg  (as  Pn»*d  so 
long  ago  discovered,  and  as  students  „f  the  feeble^drf 
hw.  re^ed)  the  hand  plays  a  leading  pa^ 
a  thmg  B  to  getthe  "feel"  and  "hang"  o?  i?,  to  exn^rteT 
;^  ahape  «,d  t«cture,  Its  .wing  «k1  b^«.«  1 1  &S  wh." 

^  "1  '"•"r"'  ™»  do  with  it.  AB  thfa  fa 

U.«ugh  grasping  and  wielding,  and  thru^"t,^ 
"«tort  of  the  finger  hps.   The  child  likes  touching, 

faces  that  are  notably  rou*  or  smooth  or  soft  or  hard  or 
to  or  sticky.  I  beB«-e  w.      have  .  .na^giove 
for  certam  th.ngs  like  rough  clothes  and  s^rfpape,. 
tt^g-ve  such  robust  report  <rf  themsdv..  ..XW^ 


04 


PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


At  all  events  the  child  —  in  spite  of  his  germ-imbibing 
tendency  to  test  also  by  touch  of  tongue  —  sliould  be  aided 
in  his  endeavor  to  „rasp  his  world,  by  having  good  measure 
of  It,  in  the  form  of  a  laige  number  and  variety  of  samples, 
put  within  his  reach. 


CHAPTER  XV 

CONSTRUCTION 


handful  of  damp  sand  he  squeezes  it  between  his  hands  and 
then  peeps  m  and  sees  that  it  has  kept  its  shape ;  and  lo !  a 
new  era  in  his  hfe !   He  has  seen  a  material  object  marked 
with  his  image  and  superscription:  he  has  stamped  his 
bought  upon  a  fragment  of  the  external  world.  From 
that  day  on,  making  things  -  the  molding  and  arranging  of 
external  objects  so  that  ihey  shaU  give  him  back  his  own 
thought,  shall  render  to  him  what  he  had  in  mind  and  yet 
could  not  otherwise  have  truly  known  -  will  be  for  him  an 
essential  strand  of  life.   The  constructive  instinct  runs 
thencrforward  through  the  whole  of  infancy,  prescribing  at 
"^^'^  development  some  special  exercise 
through  which  It  grows  and  takes  possession  of  him.  He  will 
not  now  be  happy  unless  he  can  not  only  handle,  wield,  and 
stnke,  but  make 


L,  this  fii^t  period  the  instinct  takes  a  rudimentaiy  form. 
The  mud  p,e,  the  dassic  and  aboriginal  production,  owes 
..s  .asma^on  partly  perhaps  to  its  gooey  consistency, 
.  '  .y  to  Its  satisfying  response  on  being  spatted  on  the 
-  .-P  with  spoon  or  digger,  but  chiefly  I  think  to  its  supreme 
simplicity  of  construction.    Sand  operations  are  as  yet  mostly 
^nfined  to  simple  piles  or  pyramids  -  also  much  spatted 
spoon  or  shovel -and  to  digging  holes,  the  latter 
operation  being  at  first  carried  on  with  a  f<^ard  and  back 
rhythmic  motion,  both  hands  at  once,  like  a  woman  wadiinic 
clothes,  and  accompanied  by  a  runic  baUad  of  some  sort 


^  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

hJ^'"/'  ^  ^^'"'^  *  ^P^'^'  <Ji«Png  instinct,  .cquwd  p«w 

say  nothing  of  clams  and  other  burrowing  game.  Dierinir 

enterprise  of  tunnehng  from  one  hole  to  another  -  makine 
geranmm  drains,"  as  a  child  I  used  to  know  caUeS^th^ 
subterranean  passages  -  with  much  resultant  thrill  when^ 

itof'^'lTcf"^.'^  I-membermyo^te 
WW  of  bandy  Claws  "  was  thus  obtained. 

Soon  the  children  like  to  use  molds -the  tin  pail 
yielding  .ts  standard  b«wn  loaf,  or  shells  or  box  covers  ^ 
more  elaborate  ones  producing  scalloped  cakes. 

And  there  ^ould  be  a  large  supply  on  eveiy  playground 
llmlt^Th    .        "^"^  is  best  as  most  pracdc^  and  lit 

blocks    at  this  first  age  13  not  elaborate.   It  begins  wiU 
sun^e  i^petition,  placing  one  block  on  anotherfnd  Tn 
mother  block  on  that,  thus  rearing  a  Tower  of  Baberl 
fi«t  form  of  architectural  aspiration  -  as  high  as  envious 

godspermit.   Even  before  that  the  blocks  are  placed  Zply 
in  a  row  along  the  floor. 

Do  not  get  impatient  with  these  slow  and  tentative  be- 

gait.  Should  music  supersede  architecture,  and  the  block 
^at  was  the  head  of  the  «,mer  be  suddeni;  diverted  in t 
use  to  pounding  upon  that  which  formed  its  base  m  In 
accompaniment  to  impromptu  martial  song,  a^pt  tie 

pretty  good  self-tramers.  They  usually  know  how  long  to 
^.ck  at  a  thmg,  and  if  aUowed  to  leave  off  when  they  wan^ 
to  they  do  not  get  overtrained. 


CONSTRUCTION  97 

On  the  other  hand  children  do  not  need  to  be  constantly 
diverted  as  some  parents  seem  to  think.   They  should  be 
given  a  chance  to  be  abeorbed  -  to  be  lost  in  their  work, 
as  they  so  easily  and  so  fortunately  become  -  carried  by  it 
asleep  m  ,t.  wrapped  by  the  god  in  his  own  spirit  and  trans^ 
ported  to  his  very  workshop,  their  mind  and  body  taken 
up  mto  the  thing  in  hand  until  distinction  ceases  between 
Ae  work«r  and  h,s  work.   There  is  no  work,  and  there  is  no 
rest.  like  that  Such  absorption  is.  in  most  literal  sense,  the 
very  making  of  the  chiW,  the  actual  process  through  which 
his  soul  gets  bom. 

Rules,  it  is  true,  are  dangerous.   Children  can  overdo 
and  must  sometimes  be  taken  shrieking  from  their  work 
and  put  to  bed    But  do  not  dissipate.   Do  not  be  forever 
meddlmg.  mterfenng.  asking  questions,  showing  them  a 
better  way.   The  soul  also  knows  a  little  even  if  you  are  so 
wise;  and  a  child  whose  attention  has  been  ruthlessly  cut  m 
twr     enever  he  attempted  to  enlarge  its  span,  who  has  been 
pui       T  by  the  roots  whenever  he  began  to  get  a  little  into 
the  sung  and  swing  of  growth,  has  been  spiritually  maimed, 
trive  the  constructive  power  in  your  chiklren  scope  and  elbow 
room  -  the  temple  that  it  builds  is  invisible  to  any  eyes  but 
theirs ;  if  you  blur  and  joggle  their  vision  it  is  lost,  and  its 
work  m  them  wiU  remain  forever  unaccomplished 

In  an  the  material  the  chUd  wifl  now  or  later  learn  to  use  - 
sand  blocks,  clay,  cloth,  beads,  pi^jer.  wood,  or  raffia- 
adaptabihty  is  the  main  consideration.  It  must  be  pU«tic 
to  his  hand  and  mind.  Not  something  you  have  shaped  for 
him.but  somethinghe  can  shape  for  himself,  is  what  he  wants. 

Sand  is  tiie  dassic  material  of  childhood  because  it  is  the 
least  committed.  It  is  the  open-minded  substance,  to  which 
one  shape  is  as  welcome  as  another,  that  wiUaitcr  with  equal 
gemahty  into  any  form.  Sand  seems  to  be  the  oorreUtive  of 


*  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

^d«n^  h.„d,.  They  mu,t  have  g«„  I.  ft  .rfiMy; 
Md  A^seem  to  remember  the  long  .mphibiom  ag«wtel 

be«h  .„d  to  recogri..  playmate.  Ci! 

the  , .lent  comr.de.ho  u„de«..„dMo  ,hLcUkL«lL 

or  «iid  tdJe  m  the  playgrouiid,  with  a  eover  folded  back  or 

H»e,  in  this  manual  form,  the  great  creative  impuh. 
fc™»«i«<«-  a  httle  bud  at  fir,t,  but  destined  to  ca^n 
mm  mtj«»t  of  h»n«,  li,..  The  mud  pie  contain,  ^  The 
eonrtrucf  ve  woria  of  b«,.  Fnm  burfbow,  to  Xou^ 
Y'tems  a,e  thing,  men  make,  the  image,  «,d  L^ao™ 

rh>  Jm,  the  buUdn,g  instinct  i,  parent  of  all  the  art,.  Men 
buUd  «.  mj™,  in  word,  and  U«  and  institution,.  Wha™ 
ever.,  mJded  orput  t<^„  .„  "tat^ 
«     «n,  „r,g,„.  Other  inninct,  may  bear  tiJr  part 
pre^^nbing  the  purpo«  of  the  special  edifice.   But  wL^ 

am  man  the  artificer  i,  at  work. 

The  building  instinct  is  mmiM  in  all  science.  To  think 
at  al  1,  to  think  constructively.  To  pas,  beyond  .n  ur^ 
conscious  sene,  of  sensations  is  to  form,  build  .^ZJ^ 
put  of  the  raw  material  of  thought.   And  thought  is 
m  Proportion  as  the  ideal  structure  produce!  i,  lZ3 
findy  kmt   The  p«Kl«ctive  tiiinker  must  be  ablX  » 
expan..o„  of  the  h„.gh,.aon,  «  Pro,^  Key«r  of  Ju^ 
bia  has  sa,d,  to  comprehend  whole  ^-sterns  of  ide«i  y^t^. 
smgle  v,.on.  and  to  hoM  th«n  f„t  -  „  it 


CONSTRUCTION  90 

of  the  Iwwl  —  while  he  subjects  them  to  a  unifying  intuition 
•nd  tests  his  intuitioii  by  their  Acceptance  of  it ;  m  though  a 
man  with  a  hundred  hands  were  to  build  an  arch  of  nuu^ 
blocks  by  putting  them  all  into  their  place  at  once.  Con- 
sider the  great  hypothesis  of  Darwin  -  regiments  of  facts, 
nmwhaled  m  brigades  and  columns,  in  whole  army  corps, 
converging  under  one  master  mind  upon  a  single  point. 
There  IS  no  more  definitely  building  opoatbn,  nor  any  con- 
struction  on  a  vaster  scale,  than  is  found  b  the  moat  abrtract 
scientific  work. 

Constructive  power  is  called  for  even  where  there  seems 
at  first  ngfat  no  originality  required,  as  in  singing  or  reciting, 
even  m  danang.  because  one  must  first  project  the  verse  or 
movement  in  one's  mind  in  order  to  produce  it  YouaumoC 
even  listen  intelligently  without  constructing  the  music  or 
the  argument  in  your  own  mind.   As  Emerson  said,  it  takes 
two  to  teU  the  truth,  one  to  speak  and  one  to  hear,  'rhe 
hearer^s  twk.  to  be  sure,  ui  easier  bec^^ue  the  span  of  his 
attention  need  not  be  so  great,  and  because  he  has  on]y  to 
build,  not  to  invent.   Constructive  power,  in  short,  is 
necessary  to  all  action,  including  thought.    To  make  is 
tn  most  languages  the  same  verb  as  to  do.  Man  is  a 

maker  if  he  acts  at  aU,  and  without  action  he  becomes 
extinct. 

But  whatever  the  later  incarnations  of  the  creative  instinct 
however  wide  its  subsequent  variety  of  form,  its  first  un- 
foJdmg.  the  germ  of  whatever  power  it  may  afterwards  attain 
w  in  the  child's  mstinctive  molding  with  his  hands.  Small 
chiWren  wiU  not  write  books  or  poetry  or  construct  scientific 
hypotheses.  It  is  true  they  wiU  mvent  games  and  dances 
and  compose  sagas  of  a  primitive  sort ;  but  the  main  stress  of 
then-  creative  impulse  is  upon  manual  production.  To  con- 
struct 18  m  Jiese  first  years  to  make  things  with  one's  hands. 


»•»  PUy  IN  BDOCATTON 

n^ed  >n  ail  constructive  work  r,.h  .  '^^^ 

in .  chad'.  uSttodtTw'i;^  rr 
A»  nver  system,  «id  to  gnTSw^^  ;. 
tl»d»ldt^.        T"'"^  and 

find,     tjl-u.s^Hir  i^rr'^i 

bias    Riif  it  .  .       ■"'■y*  retains  a  manual 

uMts.   uui  It  will  never  reach  iu  full  mm^u  •» 

And«  of  tho  method,  so  .ISO  0,  tkTp^  ^ 
^^to.  to  receive  .„  tasp,„ti„„  fa  wfc^  j,  J„^^ 

ST  it  U  there,  and  whl  ^ 

OMld  s  nature  is  p  astic  to  its  imnM..  l  •  . 

passed.   In  the  child  s  impulse  to  make  things  durimr 

ke  -  good  a^.^^t  ltj?'"''.'^ 
.«at  instinot.**^  oh«rat  'tlS' J^'tSfln^: 
and  permanently  lessen  its  fertile    iTl  Tjr 
ribylline  books.  Each  year  th«»il/  ^l'*'' 
"d  .t .  higher  priL  '^'^  «^  l>«  I»m4«d 


OONBTRUCnON  loi 

P  ^  ^'^^  *°  ^«  constructive  instinct. 

Each  of  th«ie  gmt  eonstitiMiit  impulMs  seems  when  one  is 
studying  It  to  be  almost  the  whole  of  Hfe.  the  center  Mound 
which  all  the  rest  revolves.  And  indeed  these  dementia 
forces  of  man's  nature  do  each  permeate  the  whole  of  him. 

Menotdivided  in  their  jurisdictions,  but.  like  the  colors 
or  the  qMctnun,  are  euh  present  throughout.  Of  the 
creative  impulse  it  may  be  said  that  it  I.  the  captain  of  the 
mstincts,  the  one  by  which  the  rest  are  marshaled  In  the 
ordering  of  our  active  life.  It  is  true  it  is  not  the  monarch : 
sovereignty  -esides  in  the  belonging  instinct  or  thereabouts; 
but  h  tthis  loyal  and  efficient  aide.  When  your  child  be- 
comes  abeorbed  m  the  shaping  of  hb  «u,d  house  he  does  so  in 
obedience  to  an  instinct  whose  importance  fmtiBm  him. 
The  great  Sculptor,  through  it,  ia  ahapbg  him. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

CREEPING,  WALKING,  AND  BALANCING 

The  desire  for  locomotion  appears  long  before  the  child 

learns  to  walk,  usually  unaccompanied  by  any  conclusive 
suggestion  as  to  how  the  thing  is  to  be  accomplished     It  is 
true  that  many  children  crawl  on  their  hands  and  knees 
after  the  manner  of  the  picture  books,  and  these  mav  be 
followmg  some  faint  suggestion  from  a  quadrupedal  past- 
but  the  majority,  at  least  of  those  whom  I  have  observed, 
do  not  adopt  that  method.    Some  jump  like  a  rabbit  -  both 
hands  first  and  then  the  legs  brought  up  under,  both  at  once  • 
one  chdd,  whose  arms  were  long  enough  to  raise  her  off 
the  floor  m  a  sitting  posture,  used  them  like  a  pair  of  crutches 
and  swung  along  feet  foremost  with  great  speed;  one  I 
have  known  to  walk  a  good  deal  of  the  time  like  a  young  bear, 
really  on  all  fours,  using  her  feet  instead  of  her  knees.  The 
majority,  or  at  least  a  plurality  I  think,  adopt  a  one-sided, 
crablike  system,  one  leg  being  tucked  underneath  and  the 
other  used  as  a  sort  of  side  wheel  or  pushing  pole,  while 
the  arms  are  either  used  together  or  else  the  arm  on  the 
same  side  as  the  leg  that  is  tucked  in  gets  the  weight, 
while  the  other  is  flourished  as  a  balancing  rod. 

But  the  important  factor  is  not  method,  but  desire,  and 
locomotion  precedes  the  development  even  of  the  crude 
methods  above  described.  The  first  journey  is  accomplished 
by  means  even  more  primitive.  A  chUd  about  nine  months 
old  drops  a  ball  and  it  rolls  out  of  reach.  He  wants  it ;  and 
It  appears  perfectly  natural  to  him.  as  it  would  not  have  done 

102 


CREEPING,  WALKING.  AND  BALANCING  103 

a  few  months  before,  that  he  should  t^^  to  get  it,  only  he  has 
not  the  shghtest  idea  how  to  go  to  work.  Generally 
^hy  sheer  force  of  de.:.  u.i.ted  by  accident^ 
alm<«t  invariably  turns  rc.ud  a  mnnh.r  of  times  usuallv 
forgets  once  or  twice  wha.  he  was  tryi:  g  to  dr  aZver 

and  squeals  and  groans  over  getting  it  out,  and  at  last  fin^ 

for  Ioa>motion  and  his  consciousness  of  its  possibility 
both  become  stn>nger.   But  the  method  not  being  even  yet 
made  clear  by  any  subsidiary  instinct,  he  is  put  to  great 
^ert^on  both  of  mind  and  body  to  reach  the  desired  rS 
until  he  finaiy  hits  upon  some  solution  which  he  has  practi^ 
caUy  mvented  forhimself    His  wish  seems  almost  to  pull  him 
along  by  Its  very  intensity,  without  any  definite  means  of 
operation.   His  only  thought  is  to  get  there,  and  the  mbd 
somehow,  anyhow,  draws  his  body  after  it  across  the  floor 
^  The  discovery  of  his  first  method  of  locomotion  by  each 
individual  child  is,  like  all  other  great  discoveries,  a  solu^ 
arising  out  of  a  deep-felt  need.   Columbus  discovered 
America,  and  Vasco  da  G«n«  sailed  around  the  Cape  of 
Good  Hope  about  the  same  time,  because  Europe  wanted  to 

S     \     W  ^'^^  S"^'  marauding 

tnbes  of  Asia  Minor,  and  her  own  robb  t  barons  had  made 
the  easting  routes  too  expensive.  Europe  found  new  wavs 
around  the  world  because  she  had  to;  just  as,  three  and  a 
half  centunes  Uter,  canals  were  dug,  and  finally  nulrowb 
evolved,  because  mechanical  inventions  had  carried  nmnu- 
factures  off  to  lonely  spots  possessing  water  power,  far  from 

^the  discovay  of  how  to  creep  towaii  her  desired 


104  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

Walking,  when  it  comes,  seems  to  result  from  the  con- 
bmmg  of  two  strands.  -  the  instinct  of  locomotion  as 
above  described,  and  that  of  simply  kicking  and  pushing  with 
the  legs  plus  a  specific  walking  instinct. 

From  a  very  early  age  the  baby  likes  to  kick,  at  first  with 
both  feet  at  once  and  then  with  them  sometimes  separate^ 
Very  early  he  likes  to  press  with  his  feet  against  something 
and  push  It  away  from  him. -for  instance  his  mother's 
hand,  -  a  predilection  in  which  Froebel  finds  a  general 
desire  to  encounter  and  overcome  resistance.   Then  he  likes 
to  be  held  so  that  he  can  press  his  feet  against  the  floor  and 
feel  his  weight  on  them;  then  to  pull  himself  up  by  a  chair 
or  his  mother's  dress,  stand  and  look  about  him  with  an 
air  of  triumph,  frequently  cut  short  by  a  subsidence  so 
sudden  as  to  suggest  a  disappearing  gun, -a  catastrophe 
which  he  wiU  learn  to  take  as  a  great  joke  if  that  view  rather 
than  the  tragic  one  is  suggested  to  him  by  the  attitude  of 
nis  elders. 

Another  set  of  exercises,  whether  pa.paratory  to  walkmir 
or  not  1  cannot  say,  but  of  which  the  child  is  certainly  very 
fond, -perhaps  more  calculated  to  develop  the  muscles 
of  the  trunk  than  those  of  the  legs,  -  consists  of  lying  on  his 
back  in  an  Abraham  Lincoln  attitude,  with  his  legs  sticking 
straight  up  in  the  air.  either  contentedly  manipulating  his 
toes  with  an  expression  of  contemplative  interest  or  merely 
apostrophizing  the  ceiling.   Opening  and  shutting  like  a 
jadckmfe,  like  the  baby  m  AUce,  to  the  great  discomfiture 
of  inexperienced  male  nurses,  is  another  favorite  amusement 
in  the  pre-walking  stage. 

When  the  instincts  of  locomotion,  kicking,  and  walking 
proper  combine,  and  actual  walking  begins  to  result  there- 
f«Mn,  the  pen  above  mentioned,  with  its  fence  of  con- 
v«!ient  height  and  its  rungs  to  puU  one's  self  up  by  is 


CREEPING,  WALKING.  AND  BALANCING  108 
much  .pp«oi.ted.  Th«,  /dlow  d,ort  trip,  from  one  h.ven 

cuse  for  mirth  at  its  successful  teSSn  ^ 
™y.ges  of  discovery  ,   ,be  distant  coa^Tth.  fot 
fc™g  «.f.,  m»d  escapade,  to  the  far  comer  of  the  ro„™ 
b««kmg  away  tr^  „.e's  guardians  on  the  belch  a„d 

aeucous  terror  of  the  adventure  within  tolerable  bounds 

f.vtl"n^  -complish^l  and  her 

inZIi    •"°^''""">  -aoves  erect.    The  feat  il 

indeed  an  extraordinary  oiu.  H™ 


And  while  he  is  in  the  balancing  business  the  child  tdt« 
•«««on  to  cany  his  p^ficiency  much  further  thTm^y 

a  d  on  the  grou«i.  as  it  is  still  quite  a  feat  to  wdk  such  a 

get  up  on  the  sofa,  and  rejoices  in  its  Wy^ 
SBWMerting  response  to  his  motions  and  in  the  Ivit 

tast  he  can  make  it  vibrate  before  cabutrophe  enauea 

down  .  b«A  or  slanting  board,  their  feet  going,  app^* 
«^o«,,«p»aibaity,  out  into  space  before'  he"; 

evTwhen  di  '^"^"^  '^""^  ^  «'vent"^ 

even  when  disaster  has  accompanied  a  first  eroeriment  I 

»  :nTt  ""'^  '"^'y  ^Ind 

TIie»  AouU  b.  Unb  or  sl«,ting  boards,  or  something 


106  ii^Y  IN  EDUCATION 

of  the  cellar  door  variety,  to  run  down  in  this  manner,  as 
we  1 .  to  roll  or  slide  on,  in  every  playground  to  which  small 

chilu   11  are  invited. 

I  suppose  the  child  in  all  these  balancing  feats  is  training 
not  only  his  legs  and  other  neces-  iry  muscles  but  his  middle 
ear- which  is,  as  I  understand,  the  organ  provided  to  tell 
him  ^.^ich  side  up  he  is.  and  how  much,  how  fast,  and  in  what 
du-ection  he  is  declining  from  the  vertical. 

As  soon  as  the  child  can  walk  he  wants  to  run.  From  that 
moment  locomotion  develops  on  the  two  lines  of  the  runnmg, 
Chasing,  fighting  games  on  the  one  hand ;  and  of  feats  of 
balance  and  locomotion  on  the  other,  such  as  balancing  on  one 
leg.  walking  along  the  tops  of  fences  or  on  railroad  tracks 
running  across  the  rocks,  skating,  dancing,  surf-rumiing  on 
a  board.  But  of  the  two  tendencies  the  more  purposeful 
one,  toward  the  chasing  and  fighting  games,  is  by  far  the 


BOOK  III.   THE  DRAMATIC  AGE 


CHAPTER  XVn 

IHPERSOKATION 


As  everybody  knows,  the  play  of  small  children  -  say  from 
two  and  a  half  years  old  to  six  or  thereabouts  -  is  largely  in 
the  fonn  of  make-believe.   They  play  doll  and  horse  and 
soldier;  sand  at  their  touch  turns  into  pies  and  houses; 
blocks  become  cows  and  schooners  and  railroed  trains 
If  you  listen  to  a  child  busy  over  his  fortification  agamst  the 
waves  you  may  hear  him  hummmg  to  hunself  a  sort  of  chant  • 
and  this  epic,  often  maudible,  is  m  many  chUdren  an 
accompannnent  to  ahnost  everythmg  they  do.   Much  of 
the  child  s  life  at  thb  age  consists  of  impersonation,  directly 
or  through  playthings  to  which  the  various  parts  are  a.osigned 
and  there  is  no  understanding  him  without  knowing  what 
this  sort  of  drama  means. 

The  dramatic  impulse  is  in  the  first  place  not  an  unpulse 
to  show  off;  that  belongs  to  a  hter.  self-conscious,  period, 
while  a  characteristic  mark  of  the  age  that  we  are  considerw 
»ng  IS  Its  lack  of  consciousness.  In  truth  the  reason  why 
the  first  two  periods  of  chUdhood  are  so  little  understood  by 
grown  people  is  that  they  are  the  ones  they  have  forgotten  - 
or  rather  that  they  never  knew  -  for  they  were  unconscious 
^vhen  they  passed  through  them.  They  are  like  the  parts  of 
the  country  one  went  by  in  the  sleepmg  car.  Where  patches 
of  memory  appear  -  the  light  of  self-consciousness  illuminat- 

ifVT 


'08  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

mM«ti".'K^'""'  P»'eh.s,  though  in  the 

™*«  of  the  dramatic  age,  do  not  belong  to  it  but  «e  ou^ 
posts  of  a  later  dispensation. 

Nor  is  the  impuhe  w.  are  eonsidering  toward  dnunatics  in 
th   grown-np  sense :  toward  representing  to  <rther  peoVle 

of Tirh"     .r'°'''  f"^-  " 
dJ^t^  ,k       I  ""'""^  ■^M'l™  "-"te 

oZ^nr  r."'''f        '» "i"<i^  o' 

in  then™"'  "^^^  "  "-'^ 

_  Essentially  the  dramatic  impulse  in  children's  pUy  is  the 

rsi^'Tr'  '"^^    " "-^  Principe 

m  wheh  the  great  human  msUnct  of  curiosity  appears  at  this 
pmod  o  growth    And  the  mmd's  first  world 
buUt  of  other  mmds.  The  .ttn«ti„n  of  life  for  hfe  is  the 
st^ngest  mfluence  in  determining  the  chfld's  object,  o 

nordl"'..  °'  f  """"^  ""'"^^  ^"^  'kings  tha  mo™ 
«^d,ad  thmgs  but  things  that  live,  have  fascination  fo 
^.  It  ,s  hvmg  thmgs  that  are  for  him  the  normal,  the 
matter^fKH,„r,e,  around  which  hfa  world  is  org^nzed,  by 
wh.ch  ,t «  measured  and  understood ;  and  he  dol  not  «^ 
beheve  m  departures  from  the  normal  type.  EvayS 
^hnn  .s  ahve  until  the  contrary  is  proved.   His  sym^^ 
mrferstandmg  goes  out  as  readily  to  the  wind,  \he  wa™^ 
tte  flre  engme.  as  to  the  dog  or  kitten.  So  also  the  mterestr; 
thmg  about  any  object  is  its  life.   To  know  what  it  b  liJe 
.ns,de,  what  it  is  for  itself  and  when  it  is  at  home  h^  t 

d^  Ue  Ue  ■„  all  thmgs  is  the  legitimate  object  of  in- 
^ton  for  a  nsmg  young  scientist  of  goh.gK.n.four. 

The  object  of  curiosity  during  this  dramatic,  uumbtie 
age  «  mevitably  the  world  of  whole.,  of  individual 


IMPERSONATION  109 
the  outline  but  the  mass,  not  the  details  but  the  total  effect  - 
uT^,!  «f  the  thing -is  what  is 

e^  and  w^Tw^"  '  hobbyhorse, 
ete.  and  what  „»  the  main,  and  for  themselves,  these  are 
To  faiow  m  this  wa,  is  an  aet  of  faith.   It  is  to  imagine 
project  the  reahty,  and  to  stake  your  efforts  on  its  l^i"  g 
as  you  dare  to  think.   It  is  an  act  of  sympathy.   It  Tly 

vrwhoir.  ^  ^^--^-^^^P.       a  bonhomie  ts 

yet  whoUy  trustful  and  unclulled.  not  only  toward  his  fellow 
humans  but  toward  birds  and  beasts  and  bits  of  wood  o" 

that  the  child  conquers  the  secrets  of  the  physical  world  a^ 
well  as  the  hearts  of  those  about  him. 

.J^L'i^^'^r'^f  impersonation,  by 

puttmg  himself  mside  the  thing  he  wants  to  know,  being  it 
and  seeing  how  it  feels.   What  he  is  doing  whei  he 
mother,  horse,  engine,  blacLsmith,  bear,  is  finding  outT 

S         ?  "^^^  ^^"''^^^^'•^     the  drama  in 

which  he  has  been  cast  by  assmning  each  in  turn.  Whatever 
personality  interests  him  into  that  he  transmigrates  and 
shares  the  exhilaration  of  its  deeds.   Later  he  wSS  stu^ 

Cm  •  P^^-J^-  "methods  and  limitation^ 

Now  hs  instinct  IS  to  grasp  the  whole,  to  enter  by  one  sheer 
W  of  mtmtion  into  the  heart  of  the  object  of  his  study  and 
ac  out  from  that  His  is  the  sort  of  power  one  gets  under 
the  influence  of  music  in  later  life,  that  of  making  a  bold 
and  glorious  assumption  with  a  perfect  disregard  of  diffi- 
^ties  and  details.    He  can  still  see  the  forest  wholly  ^ 

m'^.*"'  '^'^^  ^'^''^  -^^'-t-''^-'  -d  upon 

the  most  heterogeneous  problems,  adopts  the  mathemati- 


110  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

mn'8  device  0/  assuming  that  this  thing  is  so  and  so  and 
seeing  how  the  supposition  works -only  his  assumptions 
are  not  abstract  but  most  concrete  and  living  thmgs. 

The  child's  active  bodUy  presentation  of  his  experience, 
the  necessity  he  is  under  of  acting  out  in  the  flesh  his  in- 
tuitions of  the  mner  nature  of  his  world,  is  due  tc,  the  fact 
that  unagination  is  as  yet  too  weak  to  stand  alone.  He 
does  not  fully  possess  his  mental  image  until  he  has  given 
It  a  bodily  form.  He  is  above  all  under  the  necessity  of 
P«^nally  partaking  of  the  action  of  the  thing  he  studies 
because  only  so  can  he  feel  the  working  of  the  active  prin- 
ciple m  which  its  essence  is  contained.  He  acts  out  in  order 
to  possess. 

Of  course  the  child  does  not  know  that  he  is  studying  He 

and  the  firat  thmg  is  to  lay  a  broad  foundation  of  general 
Ideas,  and  then  decide  that  a  study  of  conscious  beings 
furnishes  the  most  valuable  curriculum.   He  does  not  even 

"  T  n      'y/""""^  ^""^  ^hat  she's  like.'"  but 

just  I  ,  be  Mamma."  Mothers,  schooners,  fire  engines, 
and  the  like  are  smiply  too  fascinating  to  resist  -  who  would 
not  embark  m  such  a  personality  if  a  ticket  were  offered 
hmi  ?  The  thmg.  whatever  its  explanation  to  us  grown-ups. 
comes  to  him  simply  in  the  chunk  -  aU  one  undifferentiated 
impulse.   As  the  egg  is  to  the  hen.  according  to  James,  the 

♦T^'^TT  ^^''■^'"'^^■"P^"  ^^^j^^t'      the  mother  is  to 
the  child  the  never-too-much-to-be-impersonated  phenom- 
enon.   In  both  cases  Nature  has  her  own  end  in  view,  but 
has  intrusted  to  her  offspring  only  as  much  of  the  secre 
as  was  necessary  to  make  him  serve  that  end 

I  believe,  however,  that  the  child's  impersonating  im- 
pulse, though  It  comes  to  him  all  one.  partakes  of  the  nature 


IMPERSONATION  m 

of  the  gTMt  instinct  of  curiosity  of  which  it  is  a  phase- 
that  in  the  impulse  to  unpersonate.  as  in  the  exploring, 
investigating,  classifying  impulses  that  will  command  him 
later  on.  there  is  the  unconscious  desire  to  master,  to  take 
hold  of  his  world  and  assimilate  it  to  his  mind  and  use. 
He  desm»  to  approach,  to  experience,  these  fascinating 
personahties  m  order  ihat  he  may  make  them  his.  The 
successive  studying  impulses  are  the  branches  of  one  tree 
of  the  mind  as  Knower  reaching  out  into  its  world  — 
and  the  whole  stem  vibrates  to  their  activity  and  growth 

TJe  miperaonating  impulse  is,  I  suppose,  partly  a  phase 
of  the  imitative  mstmct  that  we  hear  so  much  about.  But 
Jt  IS  mutative  m  a  very  special  sense.   Not  the  outer  act 
but  the  mner  spirit  is  what  the  child  desires  to  represent, 
or  rather  to  possess.    He  unitates,  indeed,  all  kinds  of 
actions  -  prances  Uke  a  horse,  creeps  like  a  kitten,  says 
bow  wow  like  a  dog.   And  it  is  true  that  the  fascmation  is 
partly  m  the  act  itself  -  it  must  be  very  nice  to  go  like  that. 
Hut  It  IS  never  a  dry  nnitation.    It  is  not  like  the  pho- 
nographic reproduction  of  a  parrot,  to  whom  "damn," 
good-by,"  and  the  squealing  of  a  much-moved  sofa  are 
equally  significant   Never  the  bare  act  but  always  the  act 
as  a  yehide  of  life  is  what  attracts  him,-the  prancmg  soul, 
the  smuous  personality,  the  dog  behind  the  bark. 

In  getting  at  the  heart  of  personality  the  sharing  of  its 
action  IS,  indeed,  the  important  method.  The  best  way  to 
be  anybody  -  to  get  the  feel  of  hhn  as  he  is  from  the  inside 
-IS  to  act  out  his  character  and  function.  Even  in  his 
names  for  thmgs  a  chUd  shows  insight  of  this  principle  in 
the  importance  he  assigns  the  verf)  when  he  calls  the  cow 
the  moo,  the  dog  the  bow  wow,  the  sheep  the  baa.  If  one 
could  say  m  a  single  word  what  so  complex  and  pervasive 
a  person  as  a  mother  does,  that  word  would  also  be  her 


PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

Znal  '^J"  ^V^"l^'"  '•'P"^"^  Of  hi, 

ongina  ;  his  whole  perfonnance  may  be  so  composed.  But 
as  Shakespeare  wrote  his  Julius  Caesw  not  from  Plutarch 
but  from  the  Home  which  his  reading  of  Plutwch  ei«bled 

h.m  o  construct -as  all  true  artists  paint  not  from  the 
model  but  from  the  mental  image  to  which  their  model 
help,  them -80  the  child's  reproduction  is  never  merely 
of  actions  seen,  but  always  of  actions  as  expressive  of  the 
character  he  fee  Not  going  through  the  motion, 

bu  getting  msule  the  person,  not  being  like  a  steam  engine, 
8t.n  less  looking  hke  one,  but  actually  being  a  steam  en^ 
partakmg  of  ,ts  experience,  is  where  the  fun  comes  in. 

As  It  IS  the  spirit  not  the  form  that  governs  impersonating 
play  much  laxity  in  method  is  to  be  observed.   With  ve,^ 
small  children  almost  any  sort  of  action  may  seem  nZ 
enough  the  original  for  the  purposes  of  a  workaday  world. 
I  heard  a  boy  three  a-.d     .alf  years  old  going  "  baa.  baa " 
m  a  plamtive  tone  of  voice.   "Hullo."  I  said:  "is  that  a 
sheep  ?     He  answemi :  "I'se  not  a  sheep ;  I'm  a  ho^e  '' 
Even  one's  "bow  wow"  is  likely  to  becJ^e  con^t^L 
rather  than  realistic.   On        other  hand,  fierceness  b 
dnvuig  aw«y  wo  ves  and  f.  ^fulness  to  one's  master,  as 
more  expressive  of  the  soul,  are  usually  of  a  high  order 

s  always  of  minor  interest   You  are  a  Shakespeare  mther 

dress,  that  counts.  As  horse,  accordingly,  you  prance 
curvette.  ch«np  the  bit;  dark  lightning IsLs  f^m^T; 
rolling  eye  fire  from  your  distended  nostril.  But  as  for 
b  Idle,  saddle  mane.  tail,  and  iron  shoes- weU.  there  may 
be  a  visit  to  the  blacksmith  because  of  the  scope  afforded 
^r  ch^cter  development.  That  standing  with  conscious 
self-restramt,  pawing,  arching  the  neck,  quivering  with 


IMPERSONATION  ng 

derfie  to  be  off.  is  a  familiM  but  always  valuable  experience. 
But  manes  and  tails  and  thing.,  im|  one*,  why  anybody 
who  IS  half  a  horse  already  has  these  .n  his  soul,  whenever 

in  the  tossing  of  the  head  or  in  stamping  to  keep  off  a  fly 
the  spirit  calls  for  them ;  then-  physical  presentment  is  « 
mattw  of  negligible  importance. 

Even  when,  in  any  particular  case,  there  is  insistenoe 
upon  some  special  mark  of  outwaid  resemUanoe  — a  fur 
rug  for  a  skin  or  a  pair  of  pasteboard  wings  -  this  is  olten 
because  such  things  have  become  symbolical,  just  as  certain 
•OMj^  .t  the  Th^fitre  Fran9ais  has  come  to  represent 
palace  or  "drawmg^"  without  the  necessity  of  any 
traceable  resemblance  to  the  pkces  typified.  I  knew,  for 
instance,  a  boy  of  three  who  could  become  "Mr.  McGregor  ** 
whose  mission  in  life  it  was  to  chase  "Peter  Rabbit."  only 
when  he  glared  out  from  the  mverted  waste-paper  basket 
M  through  the  bars  of  a  hehnet.  although  Mr.  McGregor, 
the  original  of  the  part,  wears  only  a  skull  cap.  Not  looking 
like  Mr.  McGregor  but  acting  as  that  hero  was  the  Hdng  : 
you  are  doing  this  for  your  own  satisfaction,  not  to  plnse 
the  audience.   Outward  resemblance  mav  indeed  be  a  help 
If  It  heightens  the  inward  sense  of  impersona  'on,  and  you 
wiM  not  scorn  to  adopt  such  insignia,  for  instance  a  flag  or 
soldier  (»p,  as  may  prove  a  means  of  grace  in  this  respect. 
A  pan-  of  rems  to  be  driven  by  have  a  practical  as  weU  as  a 
suggestive  value,  helping  m  the  actual  mechanics  of  the  part 
But  as  a  rule  a  robust  imagination  scorns  all  merely  visual 
wcessones,  while  outward  traits,  apart  from  their  suggestive 
value,areof  nomterestornnportance. 

What  is  true  of  literalness  in  your  own  personal  costume 
also  applies  to  your  " support."  Toys,  things  of  convenient 
size  and  shape  to  play  with,  are  indeed  essential.  But  it  is 
wJiat  you  can  do  with  or  imagine  about  them,  not  what 


"«  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

W.  It  ■  tke  chOd-s  own  achievemtnt,  not  that  of  .h. 
tie.  ego,  to  whom  he  .»ig„,  .h.  part,  that  to 

J^v^tage.   If  the  hlock  had  actuSX^ 
™d  dHlSlV  "•^'^         it  would  ha^ 

good  ho^  i,  the  harness  U  «Jly  workalTlin^  '  ! 

•men  of  .tKty  paint  that  characterized  hhn.   But  such  . 

be,  by  th,  yery  perfection  of  his  adaptation  to  1 
.p«|al  service.  di«,„alificd  f«»,  tat«p«S,7  tie  W 

sens^  A  sUcic  or  a  cane  is  really  more  to  the  purpoi^ 
«»^».«th.t  can  ac^mpany  you  on  yonr  wild^ht. 
your  PegMB,  Bucephalus,  Rosinanti,  as  occasion  calls  - 

finLrrr::  ::'^r^'^' »'  "-^^  *  „- 

.      T  of  »  cart.  The  hobbyhorse  of  dl  rtl 

2-ants  u,  this  especial  Itoc,  best  combinrT^iel^^ 

iTSL^-  "™f  .«^'«« '•"-•ti't  to  fond  recollection 


IMPERSONATION  115 

head  than  a  head  without  •  itfcsk.  One  of  the  aiort  ptttrf 

quadrupeds  I  have  known  consisted,  to  the  pnmk  era,  of 
h^  a  barrel  hoop  -  and  I  doubt  whether  it,  .uKgesti«  ef 

*  perceived  by  its  fc.fi.i  owner 

n^o  '^"^'^  ^^"^  P"'^^  a'Ki  whktk. 

God  Save  the  Kuig  might  be  a  very  gocxi  duU  tor  oace  - 
perhaps  for  fifteen  minutes  on  ChristmM  wmiitiif  Lm 
after  the  first  fascination  of  passive  — j-jmwt  kMl  MMtd 
away  she  would  be  fit  only  for  the  rap  bag  to  serve  as  the 
subject  of  an  autopsy.  A  clothespi,.  with  u  rag  tk.l  round 
It  mote  neariy  answm  the  requirements  because,  like  the 
American  girl,  she  is  not  committed  to  one  p^t  in  life  but 
IS  capable  of  fulfilling  position  to  whieh  ah^  may  be 
called :  mother,  duchess,  cook  or  fairj-  prince  s  all 
one  to  her;  and  thus  she  holds  her  own  in  a  w.,rld  in  which 
one  doD  m  her  time  plays  many  parts  -  and  haa  got  to  or 
lose  her  jch. 

It  is  true  nevertheless  that  verwmilkiide,  eqtedalhr  if 
It  has  also  a  practical  working  value,  may,  as  tine  goee  on. 

Ijecome  acceptable.  There  comes  an  age  when  real  hair 
tbat  can  be  brushed,  clothes  that  button  and  can  be  taken 
off,  «sye8  tiiat  shut  when  tiieir  possessor  is  put  to  bed,  are 
felt  to  be  an  advmtige  mtiier  th«i  a  drawback.  It  is 
mterestmg  to  note  that  the  Father  of  his  Comitiy  was  so 
good  a  father  to  the  littl-  Custises  that  in  the  first  invoice 
ofgoods  to  be  shipped  to  him  after  his  marriage  he  included, 
besides  books  and  other  toys,  "a  fashionable  dressed  baby 
to  rort  ten  shillingB.''  A  progressive  discrimination  that 
begms  .y  conceding  a  basic  diffmoe  between  cows  and 
sofas  and  railroad  trains,  and  finally  ertends  even  to  recoff- 
mzmg  differentiation  of  function  among  dolls,  oermits,  or 
may  evwi  require,  such  accessories.  And  then  the  same 
nM«m«tion  timt  oouU  have  suppUed  the  special  adaptation 


116  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

when  absent  can  abolish  it  when  it  is  not  wanted.  Elabom. 

tion  furthermore,  is  tolerable  if  it  is  such  as  to  be  always 
m  character.  A  baa  lamb  that  will  squeak  when  pressed 
to  do  so,  or  a  pig  that  can  be  brought  to  utter  a  plaintive 
Howl  when  he  expires,  clearly  have  their  place  in  a  rich 
environment. 

While  literal  resemblances  are  usuaUy  of  Kttle  moment 
and  are  often  detrimental,  practical  workaday  avaikbUity 
will  always  have  its  value.  I  have  known  an  oar  blade 
serve  as  a  horse  for  a  time,  in  spite  of  the  wide  gait  which 
It  necessitated,  but  it  was  soon  supplanted  by  a  plain  stick 
because  the  latter  was  practically  the  better  mount  So 
1  have  known  a  piece  of  kindling  to  serve  as  a  doU,  but  I 
have  not  heard  of  chairs  or  heavy  pieces  of  stone  beins 
ranployed  m  that  capacity. 

And  the  essential  function  will  usually  be  respected.  A 
boy  of  three  and  a  half  turns  up  caressing  about  30  inches 
5f»  To  him  his  parent:  "What's  that  you  have 

got?     The  boy:  "  Why.  that's  my  skunk.  He  wiH  squirt 
you  if  you  don't  look  out." 

I  suppose,  though  I  have  no  figures  to  prove  it,  that  the 
practice  of  unpersonating  during  these  three  impressionable 
years,  for  many  of  the  waking  hours  of  every  day,  creates 
a  power  to  impersonate.  -  a  power,  that  is  to  say.  to  put 
yourself  m  another  person's  place,  and  to  do  this  with  some- 
thmg  of  the  whole^uled  manner  of  the  play  trough  which 
the  power  was  formed.  I  believe  that  the  unpersonating 
impulse  bequeaths  sj-mpathetic  insight  —  the  power  to  a» 
people  as  they  really  are,  the  intuitive  sympathy  that  sees 
with  another's  eyes,  feels  with  his  nerves,  that  can  realize 
lum  not  merely  as  a  phenomenon  of  sense  -  a  thing,  an 
obstacle,  a  convenience  -  but  also  as  a  feeling,  struggling 


IMPERSONATION 


117 


human  being,  embodying  a  puipose,  oommanded  by  ideab, 
subject  to  despair  and  hope. 

I  believe  that  the  practice  of  impersonating  inanimate 
things  during  the  dramatic  age  develops  a  power  to  imper- 
sonate them,  to  see  these  also  from  the  inside  —  to  get  the 
feel  of  them,  to  imagine  how  it  must  be  to  fall  like  a  stone, 
fly  like  a  bird,  sail  like  a  boat,  tower  and  break  like  a  big 
wave  —  the  power  to  sympathize  with  matter,  to  speak  its 
language,  predict  what  it  will  do.   And  this  sort  of  sym- 
pathy with  material  things  is  essential  to  any  understanding 
of  them.  Observation  can  check  off  and  verify  — even 
passive,  photographic  observation.   It  can  come  in  after^ 
wards  and  criticize,  show  where  imagmation  was  right 
01  wrong;  it  can  never  construct,  foresee,  or  understand. 
No  man  is  a  real  chemist,  or  scientist  of  any  sort,  who  is 
not  also  the  poet  of  his  science,  who  cannot  feel  the  longing 
of  the  substance  for  its  natural  compound,  the  dread  poten<^ 
of  unstable  chemical  combinations,  the  triumphant  logic  of 
the  arch,  the  swing  and  fierceness  of  the  flying  train.  One 
man's  hand  upon  the  tiller  of  a  boat  is  as  different  from 
another's  as  upon  the  rein  of  a  horse,  the  life  of  a  woman, 
the  leadership  of  a  potitical  party.  One  perhaps  knows  aU 
that  can  be  told,  all  that  was  ever  written  on  the  subject 
or  ever  will  be,  but  he  cannot  get  the  speed  out  of  his  own 
yacht.   The  other  feels  the  boat  as  a  living  thing,  humors 
her  over  the  waves  when  she  b  fractious,  sustains  her  cour- 
age m  a  head  sea.  So  one  man  feels  how  the  bridge  arches 
its  back  against  the  load;  the  other  only  knows  about  it 
from  the  book.   The  one  can  compose  in  structure;  the 
other  is  confined  to  repetition.   No  two  vessels,  bridges, 
steam  engines,  are  alike;  sense  as  well  as  science  is  required 
to  deal  with  them.  And  often  science,  in  emergencies, 
mustgivtwaytoindjht:  while  you  ar^  looking  up  the  rul«j 


H8  PLAY  EDUCATION 

the  v^sel  swamps.  Only  through  imagination  can  you  pro- 
l^t  physical  law  mto  new  combinations,  make  new  geneml- 
izations,  solve  problems,  invent 

The  power  to  sympathize  with  matter  is  necessaiy  ev«i 
to  correct  description  of  its  ways.   Kipling  haTsuch  sy^ 
pathy  m  a  remarkable  degree.   As  some  one  has  said  of 
hMi  he  IS  not  only  a  man  among  men  but  a  piston  rod  among 
piston  rods.   He  can  talk  the  language  not  only  of  the 
ammals,  but  of  wood  or  ice  or  iron,  andln  teU  con^inl^Jy 
of  things  he  never  saw.   His  icebergs  may  do  things  no 
b^^geverdzd;  they  n,ay  be  eccentric  in  the'^ 3ns;  but 
they  wjM  never  be  out  of  character.   His  Captain  Troon 
looks  Uje  a  codfish  when  he  is  thL.lJng  where  to  JZ 
s^ply  because  he  is  a  c«dfl.h  at  the  moment.  ThaTt 
^Irl^^  ^  ev«y  writer  who  is  not. 

noSrrf  '"^"^r  *  '"^'^"""^  ^^^^^tJ^'^^  but  tells  us 
no^  of  a  cause.  It  can  verify  or  reject  hypotheses,  but 
witfiout  m^agmation  there  are  no  hypotheses  even  to  reject 
You  cannot  cnticize  things  mto  existence  nor  refine  upon 
^ea.  until  ,^u  have  them.  To  suppose  a  cause,  to  fonn^ 
potbeses,  to  foresee  at  all.  is  wholly  the  province  of  hnaginL 
tton ;  and  the  truth  of  our  imagining  depends  on  insigT^ 

wdl  act  Fu^t  catch  your  hare.  Imagination  is  the  only 
net  m  which  a  world  of  cause  and  process  «Hi  «*k,n  c^Z 
caught.  And  imagimition  gets  its  growth  in  the  <Wti^ 

I  have  said  that  the  chfld  in  his  hnpersonation  is  not 
consciously  studying:  his  impulse  is  simply  to  be  the 
thing  that  interests  him.  The  whole  proceTi.  n,c«  un! 
conscious  than  it  is  possible  for  gnwn  people  to  iiiu«ii>e. 


IMPERSONATION  ng 

To  be,  to  act,  and  to  know  are  not  yet  distinct.  The 
child  s  condition  is  like  that  of  a  person  in  a  dream,  who  as 
aoon  as  he  gets  interested  in  any  character  is  apt  suddenly  to 
find  that  he  u  that  character  himself.  What  interests  the 
child  he  acts,  and  lo  he  is ! 

But  as  between  knowing  and  bemg,  though  these  are 
still  all  one  to  the  chUd,  the  accent  varies.    In  some  of  his 
mipersonation  there  is  a  larger  element  of  curiosity,  in 
same  of  ,t  more  of  the  desire  to  become -a  difference 
which  appears  for  instance  m  the  varymg  peimanence 
of  his  several  rSles.    A  child  is  a  horse  and  buggy  possibly 
for  an  afternoon ;  but  he  will  be  his  favorite  hero  -  sailor 
lamplighter,  or  Dr.  Torrey-for  weeks  together -and 
woe  to  nurse  or  parent  who  addresses  him  out  of  t.arac- 
terl  Intmiacy  and  permanence  are  greatest  as  we  ap- 
proach a  personal  ideal.  untU  in  these  more  serious 
mipersonations  there  finally  appears  the  first  gUmmeringof 
a  conscious  desire  for  life  in  the  spiritual  sense.  Froebel's 
game  of  the  Knights,  the  group  of  ideal  heroes,  inviting 
the  chad  mto  their  fdlowship,  is  a  stroke  of  genius  m  ite 
successful  rendering  of  this  highest  note  in  the  impersomi. 
tion  of  the  dramatic  age. 

All  the  world's  a  stage  to  children  at  this  period.  But  the 
home  has  the  best  scenario  and  stage  properties.  You  can 
there  be  Abraham  Uncob  or  Dr.  Jones  or  a  fire  engine 
horse  w,th  less  danger  of  Philistine  interruption  than  on  the 
playground.  The  playground  can,  however,  by  suggestion 
and  by  taking  serious  things  seriously  (refraining,  for  in- 
stance,  from  asking  George  Washington  half  across  the 
Delaware  whoi  his  mother  is  commg  for  him)  encourage 

wpeoany  Meded  when  magmation  has  been  stunted  by  a 


120  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

home  suffering  from  that  fomi  of  cfidency  mania  that 
would  sacrifice  a  mind's  development  for  the  sake  of  a  Uttle 

precocious  knowledge  of  the  grown-up  world. 

At  all  events,  wherever  he  is,  whether  at  home  or  in 
s^ool  or  on  the  playground,  whoever  has  charge  of  the 
child  should  remmber  that  unpersonation  is  durmg  this 
penod  a  chief  and  necessaiy  means  of  growth. 


CHAPTER  XVin 

SDBJECIB  OF  IMPERSONATION 

.v«y  occupation  „,  cMd  Jd„^t  ti^^a^;: 

i^.  Anything  they  make  is  .  C 

other  object  if  nnt  "„t  k-   •  ™" 

- -^i^::::',r°r'"^  tapoLce^eh*^ 


122  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

creates  the  opportunity,  which  Froebel  has  so  weli  shown 
us  how  to  utilize,  to  inject  into  the  form  of  dramatic  pUy 
aJmost  any  content,  provided  it  be  not  wholly  outside  of  tiic 
chUd  s  instmctive  interests.  Children  at  this  age  are  very 
susceptible  to  suggestion,  and  it  is  our  own  fault  if  the 
characters  they  imperaonate  and  the  scenes  they  reproduce 
are  not  of  an  edifying  sort. 

Not  that  all  their  play  should  be  supervised  as  stricUy 
as  in  the  kindergarten.   The  kindergarten  is  a  school  -  a 
course  of  discipline  through  which  the  substance  of  our 
grown-up  conclusions  upon  the  ideals  and  aims  of  life  is 
infused  into  the  form  of  chUdren's  play.  It  is  training,  the 
bending  of  the  young  vine  toward  the  trellis  that  our  best 
thought  has  set  up  for  it.    Play  leadership  outside  the 
school  should  be  less  strenuous  and  less  exacting.   It  should 
be  largdy  negative,  permitting  spontaneous  expression 
withm  the  wide  area  of  what  a  apathetic  understandinjr 
deems  permissible  -  content,  chiefly,  with  putting  u7a 
few  fences  to  prevent  the  children  from  straying  and  getting 
fturt   Our  leadership  moreover,  especiaUy  at  this  age  is 
veiy  largely  in  the  sort  of  Uves  we  live.  What  we  are  is 
what  the  chad  is  trying  to  get  at  and  reproduce  and,  for 
better  or  worse,  he  is  going  to  come  pretty  near  it  in  the  end. 

But  the  chad  is  not  in  truth  purely  imitative,  nor  whoUy 
dependent  upon  environment  and  grown-up  suggestion  for 
his  choice  of  subjects.  The  dramatic  impulse  is  not  so  un- 
biased as  it  seems.  The  chad's  mind  is  not  a  moving  picture 
machine,  fated  to  reproduce  any  action  to  which  it  happens 
to  be  exposed.  The  universal  prominence  of  mothers  and 
family  relations  among  the  objects  of  imitation,  the  vogue 
of  sddiers-out  of  all  proportion  to  their  frequency  of 
actual  occurrence.  -  the  ascendency  of  dolls :  such  typical 


SUBJECTS  OF  IMPEB80NATI0N  123 
preference,  suggest  that  ther.  i.  «,metbu.g  d«  ,t 

I^jJr^;°J'?'^™'^'-  These  and  their  like^ 
the  moM  ui  whch  the  mdet  was  first  f„™,^    i.  • 

accident  that  they  haveTSj"       Ll^^*  " 
its  individual  members.  *  •«»  ">  «>«  siapwg  of 

c^t^-^^lrT""  "!  °"  thfa  point  of  theedrtrac. 

M  gins  do  giris  see  «i  many  soldiere  as  bovs-  but  fh,;, 
l^peotive  interest  in  doll,  and  «,Hie„  is  no^Z  sZe  It 

yet    Manall  go  to  sea";  and  there  is  fortuna^L 

^  which  .u^'^:el''d^;z:7th': 

medium  of  parents  and  nurses  aim^  '  "i^ugn  uie 
Httle  heritors  of  the  i„ll":^tr''N:^\lt 
enough  sex  preference  left,  after  all  aUowl^^  " 
prove  N^ond  question  that  impe«n  iZ  ^i^'by 
Mttve  tendency,  and  not  wholly  accoiding  to  what  hZZ 
to  be  presented  to  the  child.  K  «>  wnat  happen. 

The  marked  preference  for  certain  tUnn  th,t  child™ 
never  see  ,s  further  evidence  upon  this  pomf-  , 

places  bea^,  ,i„„s,  and  elephant,  ;'^ao„a^d'^3^ 

i,  th!     1      .   '  sxKestion  by  their  elders 

«tmg  ,f  imperfectly  individuaHjed  funily  !,  invit-T^ 
mtrjduced  by  Santa  Claus,  not  select  ^ 

*  "Z^J^"'-  -  theseXitfby  t 

fameaf  Why  not  Uw  boob,  chenucals,  and  power  W 


1«  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

The  choice,  obviously,  has  really  been  made  not  hv  the 
grown-ups  but  by  the  child.  Not  by  this  particular  child, 
It  IS  true :  it  is  mfinitely  more  agnificant  than  if  it  had  been 
so.  It  is  the  taste  not  of  an  individual  but  of  all  the  genen- 
tions  of  children,  of  the  child,  universal,  that  has  been  con- 
sulted. Childhood  demands  bears,  and  the  grown-up  world 
responds  to  the  demand. 

Sometunes  even,  at  a  pinch,  the  chfld  wiU  create,  without 
a  pattern  set  either  to  sight  or  hearing,  the  object  of  imper- 
sonation  that  he  requires.  The  imaginary  playmate  is  the 
classic  mstance.  Nobody  needs  to  tell  the  little  dramatist 
that  he  might  have  such  a  companion;  and  certainly  he 
has  not  seen  hun  in  the  flesh.  He  creates  him  not  because 
an  original  has  been  placed  before  him,  but  directly,  out  of 
his  need. 

Perhaps  in  this  matter  of  the  unseen  playmate  the  vexed 
question  of  imitation  versus  originality  may  be  thought  to 
be  involved.  Let  us  for  the  sake  of  argument  —  in  defer- 
ence to  any  who  may  believe  that  our  civilization  has  evolved 
from  that  of  the  amoeba  simply  by  the  repetition  of  giv«i 
elements  — assume  that  the  imaginarj'  playmate  is  made, 
hke  a  rag  doll,  from  borrowed  traits  of  children  actually 
observed.   All  tliat  I  mean  to  point  out  is  that  the  playmate 
as  a  whole  is  not  a  case  of  imitation.   You  would  have  to 
joggle  the  chad's  surroundmgs  a  good  while  beforo  an  un- 
seen playmate  would  drop  out  of  them.   Of  course  it  may 
be  said  that  if  the  traits  were  borrowed  there  was  no  origi- 
nality.  So  it  may  be  said  of  Shakespeare  that  he  merely 
shifted  about  the  same  old  letters  of  the  alphabet  but  added 
nothing  new.  Personally,  I  cannot  see  that  it  makes  much 
difference  what  we  label  this  sort  of  action,  provided  we  can 
come  more  or  less  to  understand  it. 
The  dramatic  impulse  is,  then,  not  wholly  undiscriminating. 


SUBJECTO  OP  IM1>EB80NATI0N  135 

selects,  and  even,  „1„„  j  ^ 

buJds  up  hu,  world,  .s  a  t«e  sends  out  its  br^^^ 
coriance  w.d,  his  law  of  being.   He  buildsTtTt  mut 

same^The  question  about  anything  he  do«  w  i,  ih-hJ 
he  need,  ,t  ,n  his  business.   It  is  true  that  a^d 

Ir  IT?  f  ~Zt,X 

bat  poisons  do  exist,  and  vital  power  mayW  ^ea^ 
«^P».  dreunBtan.^  or  lack  of  fo«,.  lit  m  y ^ 
ta«d  by  «ioo««.,  wiO,  tne  objects  and  surroundinLI^ 
was  stored  up  to  meet    H«,  in  the  provision  oJ  tl^^ 

« W  °f '  ""i     """^  tkis  opp<„^ 

Zr  •        .         "*  leadings  of  the  child's  urowth 
«»  m  the  lartinctive  K„    the  dr«»atic  impulS? 

A  study  of  the  subjects  of  the  chUd's  impwonatioi. 

„,  ^' «m  tnne  «««  ,  pri„dple  that  is 
It''""  detemiining  the  n^  5 

^^fe « weiT-lrl'"  .r 

ftX.^A         ?  "'^'y-  *»t  the  best  play 

Mffl.  m*.  tfc«  «»  „«u,et.  A  g«Hi  ganie,  like  .  ^ 


PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


piece  of  real  estate,  is  placed  where  two  roads  meet,  and  the 
more  prevailing  the  instincts,  the  more  important  the 
thoroughfares,  the  better  the  game  will  be. 
Not  that  the  child,  or  anybody  else,  b  conscious  of  several 

kinds  of  satisfaction  in  a  game.   It  never  comes  to  him  that 
way.   He  does  not  separately  enjoy  the  building  of  his 
pile  of  sand  and  the  attributing  to  it  of  its  character  of 
faiiy  palace.  Outsiders  can  see  how  the  ingredients  were 
mixed,  but  it  is  aU  one  drink  to  him  —  like  William  James's 
exalnple  of  lemonade,  not  sugar  and  lemon,  but  just  a  single 
taste.   But  the  best  drinks  are  the  mixed  drinks  —  in  games 
at  any  rate  — and,  as  I  think  Herr  Groos  has  said,  in  all 
assthetic  satisfaction.  It  is  when  theme  is  piled  upon  theme 
and  you  hear  them  aU  at  once,  when  the  reverberation  of 
the  beginning  combines  with  foretaste  of  the  end,  when  the 
harinony  is  deep  and  complex  and  the  emotional  suggestion 
manifold,  that  the  music  finally  takes  possession  of  you. 
In  painting  it  is  not  alone,  as  Whistler  taught,  the  decorative 
that  fa  true  art  Rembrandt's  portrait  of  his  mother  —  or 
Whistler's  either,  for  tiiat  matter  — does  not  owe  its  power 
wholly  to  decorative  effect.   It  makes  a  difference  tiiat 
these  lights  and  shades  and  harmonies  of  line  or  color,  with 
the  inlinitely  subtie  balance  that  rules  over  them,  do  also 
represent  a  human  face,  telling  what  it  would  require  many 
volumes  by  a  Kteraiy  genius  to  convey  of  the  pathos  and 
dignity  of  human  life.   A  spot  on  the  wall,  of  equal  decora- 
tive beauty,  would  have  less  effect. 

So  the  play  of  the  dramatic  impulse  occurs  at  the  points 
where  it  crosses  the  other  main  interests  of  the  child's  life. 
When  some  day  a  littie  giri  acts  motiier  for  tiie  first  time  she 
finds  herself  in  the  stream  of  a  deeper  satisfaction  than  when 
she  was  a  panther  or  the  master  of  a  ship  —  tiiough  tiiese 
were  also  good.  Her  doll  she  finds  standing,  like  Diana 


8UBJBCTB  OF  IMPEE80NATI0N  m 
•t  the  cranways.  whoe  the  dramatic  impulse  crosses  the 

with  horse  and  sh.ning  wmor  awtHiog  him  the  Doint 
where  the  ancient  militaiy  road  ^om^  i„.  t^  JT^ 
dancmg.  social,  and  constructive  dramatizations  -  of  rin^ 

instincts  and  the  great  instbct  of  rhythm.    The  stock 

which  the  great  constituent  instinct,  of  humanity  appJ 
to  him  and  take  him  by  thehand. 

An  important  part  of  the  chUd's  pUy  now  comes  at  th. 
intersection  of  the  dramatic  with  iklZ^Z^^  • 
The  child  is  no  lon^^T ^t^^^ll^^S^ 

theater,  Wocio  fonn  houies,  with  real  stairs  and  other 
modem  conveniences  -  prominent  amcmg  which  b  my  own 
case  was  the  "rat^„„"  with  whlTbuiliS 
always  began,  and  which,  according  to^^„oti^^ 

Rouses  With  a  gard«i,  smooth,  spacious,  and  well  protected 
whh  !hl      1^    ^      sutejy  walks  Z^^^^s 

P^l^tll  ^  comes  within  reach  is 

pressed  into  the  service,  on  condition  that  it  wiO  ".neat  »n 
and  be  somebody."  ™«wm  q)eak  up 

It  is  true  that,  in  spite      .ais  new  requirement  that 
structures  shall  be  practically  useful  -  ^hou^  sh^ps 

Much  attention  is  often  paid  to  symmetiy.  I  knewTfiSe 
^ho.  buUdings.  through  ti  e  inflate  of^Tl^n^^ 
g«ten  school  of  architecture,  blossomed  out  into  t^ 


MS  nAY  IS  EDUCATION 

tow«»  and  a  great  variety  of  other  symmetrical  effects 
Wliwtive  of  the  catMml  form  -  »  case  of  the  constructive 
dnmUc.  and  rfcytlwilcb.&iets  working  aU  at  once.  There 
wtf  always  in  front  of  these  buildiiiis  a  iqum  or  rrm, 
bounded  on  each  side  by  walls  symmetrically  placed,  sug. 
festive  of  St.  Peters  n  .1  other  great  public  buildings. 
#?!r"*^  ^®  »  »  '  »tni.  tive  instinct  and  the  love 

of  beauty  work  independently  of  the  dramatic  impulse,  and 
the  giving  of  a  name  to  the  .struetufw  is  rather  an  after- 
thought. On  the  other  iiand,  the  buildings  are  oftoi  not 
merely  known  to  be  inhah  t  d,  a  real  p«,ple,  in  the  shape 
olthe  builder's  hands,  or  dolh,  or  bits  of  wood,  are  seen  to 
Iraquent  tbera.  UsuaBy  the  scene  thus  staged  bebngs  to 
the  domestic  drama:  the  hufldhg  fa  «  ^.j  g^t 
u»terert  is  as  the  scene  and  symhal  ot  life. 

In  general  the  subjects  of  the  dramatic  impulse,  and  of 
al  a  child's  play  for  that  matter,  are  eatpressive  uf  hi^  main 
reigns,  pws«it  or  to  oome.  as  t»  war.  maternitN  .  the 
family    But  how  is  it  with  horses,  defs.  and  kittens - 
especially  with  the  lions,  tigers,  and  other  friends  almdy 
mentioned -who  live  in  Noah's  ark  or  behind  the  ever^ 
fwen  hedge  and  in  the  dark  comer  of  the  entry?  How 
with  the  ship  we  built  upon  the  stairs,  with  the  wolves  and 
Indians  who,  as  I  weU  remember,  wei«  aecuMmd  to  jump 
out  m  droves  from  behind  the  stone  waH  wIhb  one  was 
nding  by  -  on  a  short  swing  in  the  plav  room?  How  do 
they  fit  m  with  this  theory  of  main  relations? 

As  to  the  dog  and  cat  and  horse,  -  these  are  t  cmseh-ns 
memb«s  of  the  fan%  always  at  cepted  by  the  chiki  as  such. 
Horse  is  also,  I  believe,  a  spnile  iMliBct  hy  itsdT  TW 
centaur  is  not  a  wholly  legendary  md.  This  hmr^oMi 
ally  IS  as  much  a  part  of  sone  mea  as  their  han^  awl  feet* 


SUB«CT8  OF  IMF^^ATIOK  m 

ttd  gnm  uowe^ick  in  a  horseless 
w«rtd.  Hen^  ud  Horn  an  menM  J^r  the  a  e  of 

chivniry  c  horsey  p.  iod;  . '  ,n  romes  Caribrfe'.  riplMric 
age;  and,  ent,-d.    th<  old  hi,  own,  awl  will  hold 

rt  agamst  u.rsh.p  a,  a  aut  .n...,|.  because  he  is  in  our  bl,«Kl 
Commdc,  cowboy,  or  belted  k  igh  t  -  the  man  on  horsebark 
«  our  favonte  aa  «a  heroic  ^  b««tte  the  horse  «  pan 
of  our  r  herut.' ideal    "  rnan.    W«fe.v,  ^.^^^ 
friend  ,t  w.       al, ,,1^.},  his  product  as  he 

^.^nu  .n,p.y  hb  Pi    nee       pwpJ-  ic  bowlwdMif 

ioJ!n!' ^  ^'^  holesome 
joy.nno.se*'lie«ap«o.n.tmi.dr«i^  i«a  e  engine, 
andin/ers  u,  ^rmtaus  ^  -n  one  mouata  upon  Ae  Adr 
asgroce  cart. 

general  — even  the  bears  and 
hese  are  members  in  full  stand- 
^  kMt  of  the  child's  worid  —  poor 
t  main  reUtioas.  Chfidien  are 
the  edge  of  the  same  world  as 
on    -ms  of  mutual  understanding 
*ilv  i.ian  grown-up  people  can.  A 
1'  PPy  or  a  kitten  without  creating 
grown  person  cannot  even  get  near 


And 


AS 


i'i'tn,  if 


to    .iiOi  h 

ing    not  ot 
rdati  ns, 

the  .ail  als  and  ci  '  g 
thea  iar  mi  ^ 
t  hild  pan  half 
'       fedin^  whcii 


T^o  on  ^  ting  terms  with  one's  friend  the  Hon 
JO.  the  dephant,  to  invite  them  to  games  and 
tiet  tlie  simple  and  natural  tViift,  to  do.  As 
-  fne- *Jid  gossips,  why  be  rude?  The  chUd's 
i^Ma,  to  whom  the  beaver,  muskrat, 
'IS  v(  od  friends,  to  be  treated  with  •  save 
cnnrt^y  a,.d  consideration,  even  if,  driven  by  hard  neces- 
^.  he  must  sometimes  make  a  seemingly  unsympathetic 
ttseofthem.  And  which  after  aU  knows  most  about  the 


rig 


at 


130  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

animals,  the  Indian  or  the  white  man?  For  myself  I  half 
suspect  that  child  and  Indian  are  right. 
And  the  ships  and  wolves  and  lions  ?  These  are  servants 

Iike  S,egf„«I  sounds  his  bugle  call  before  him  as  he 
com^.  If  man  had  not  liked  a  Kttle  danger  in  the  cu^  he 
would  not  be  here.  When  you  go  down  the  entiy  L7«  as 
you  dare  and  rush  back  in  a  state  of  delicious  ter^/^ 
the  impending  onslaught  of  "the  howls  and  the  wooT 
you  are  only  repeating  a  game  that  must  have  b^ 
among  the  cave  dweUers- and  long  before.  ^^^^"^ 

When  the  play  is  of  fairies,  kbgs,  and  giants,  it  serves 
stones  later  serve,  to  project  the  mind^  W^Xt 

are^  own  by  virtue  of  knowing  how  to  lonT^Ti^' 
W^  were  for  many  centuries  before  the  aeroplane  a 

weU-balanced  mind- and  it  i! 
remarkable  how  generaUy  in  children's  play  this  lack  hi 
been  attended  to.   It  is  in  virtue  of  su^  Laginin«  th^ 
things  at  last  take  place.   So  in  faiiy  ml^n  ^* 
^ngers,  seven-league  boots,  eveiy  discove^^  that  d3^ 
fulfiflsahuman  longing  has  been  thus  anticipated.   The  3 
starts  wnh  an  adventu^  of  the  imagination,  assumes  the 
thing  as  done,  and  looks  out  upon  the  worid  f«,m  theT^tlge 
ground  of  an  ideal  attained.   The  relation  here  fSiSwII 
^at  of  the  child  to  what  belongs  to  him,  not  n^  Ca^w 
nor  P«haps  ever  as  an  individual,  but  as  the  blossom  of  , 
race  that  inherits  the  earthy  ««»som  of  « 

PinaUy  the  child  seems  often  to  be  dimmed  in  his  choice 

tl^tT\  T  •T"""^'""  curiosity 
the  mstinet  to  make  acquaintance  with  the  world,  unbia^ 

by  my  ultenor  motive.   The  relation  here  is  one  of  spS 

fai^p  to  the  worid  at  large.   He  feels  the  univeiTo  be 

t  bottom  of  o^  natu«  with  himself  .  and  desir^  ^  Lw 


SUBJECS  OF  IMPEBSONATION  ui 

blood,  you  and  I;  he  feeb  spontaneom  sympaCfol 
«du>gmo„n,  the  twMding  ^,  the  wi^ring  elv« 
tk.  Art  „^  „„i^  a«  t^kative  biiS  who TaS 


matever  ,ts  pr«.,se  character  or  direction,  curiosity  i, 

ofdddmi  in  aa  and  m  each  succeeding  phase.  The 
to  quertioB  thing,,  to  find  what  ttey  a^  up  to 
and  may  mean  for  us,  to  see  wh«  B..  bdiind,  hTb^  1 
tjke  .t,  among  the  chief  fortune  maimers  of  th;  nl  ft  fa 
<rf  the  master  buUders  of  our  nature,  and  must  ha^  sh  " 
«4.  nK*tag  0,  the  .hUd  if  he  is  ever  to  be  no^^Z 

Sud,  are  the  subject,  of  impersonuion.  „«Brt« 
out  along  the  main  lines  of  growth  -  of  flghti^T 
Aythm,  and  social  membership,  of  creatioTtfcS^ 
A«d  upon  these  «dii,  by  means  of  this  activto.l!^ 
tbe  growth    the  chiMol  the  dnuuaticagfc 


CHAPTER  XIX 

SOCIAL  PLAY  OP  THE  DRAMATIC  AGB 

The  reason  children  impersonate  so  many  and  such  various 
things  -  the  trees,  the  wind,  the  fire  engine,  father,  mother, 
doctor,  dog,  and  cat -is  that  all  the  world  seems  to  them 
to  be  ahve.  Thus  aU  their  dramatic  riay  is  social  in  a 
sense ;  th^r  are  true  citizens  of  the  world,  and  every  object 
that  mterests  them  is  their  friend  and  playmate 

But  children  are  also  social  in  a  more  special  manner 
It  is  no  accident  that  so  much  of  their  play  centers  in  the 
family,  that  they  are  forever  playing  "house,"  making 
dimng  rooms  and  nmBeries  with  the  chairs,  and  taking  the 
parts  of  father,  mother,  nurse,  and  child,  or  that  their  con- 
structive play  is  chiefly  a  reproduction  of  domestic  Kfe. 
Ihe  children  themselves  go  outdoors,  and  have  adventures 
notespecially  connected  with  the  family;  but  their  dolls 
iMttdly  ever  enjoy  such  opportunities  -  or  when  they  go 
al>««d  It  u.  for  the  sake  of  being  dressed  for  the  occasion  and 
to  permit  the  display  of  parental  authority  in  curbing  their 
frequent  and  lamentable  transgressions.    Discipline  -  the 
fanuly  tie  in  its  most  salient,  if  least  idyllic,  manifestation  - 
filba  lai«e  place  in  the  imagination  of  the  dramatic  age 

This  peculiar  interest  in  the  leading  characters  of  famUy 
Me  and  their  domgs  is.  as  already  bdicated.  not  whoUy 
because  these  are  the  chief  personages  of  the  worid  drama 
as  presented  to  the  observation  of  the  child.  Nor  is  it  to 
be  accounted  for  entirely  by  their  practical  relations  to  him- 

Ktf.  "IS  not  because  he  .ees  his  mother  more  than  any  one 

132 


SOCIAL  PLAY  OF  THE  DRAMATIC  AGE  133 

else  (I  am  speddng  of  real  families),  nor  because  she  superin- 
tends his  dressing,  meals,  and  exercise,  that  he  is  so  obsessed 
by  her  The  reason  she  is  so  often  his  heroine  is  that  he 
e^ed  her,  that  there  is  a  place  for  a  mother  in  the  world 
wjucb  he  mstuctively  assumes. 

And  his  expectation,  after  the  first  year  or  so,  is  of  the 
mother  not  only  in  a  personal  but  in  a  represen^tive  capac 
ity,  as  an  embodiment  of  home.  Father  and  mother  are 
Ae  fumilment  of  h^^^^^^  f^j^  j„  ^^^.^  ^j^^.^^ 

he  fi«t  feh  "this  w  she."  so  he  soon  feels  "this  is  the  place  " 
and  his  heart  turns  to  his  home  as  flowers  toward  the  sun 
because  by  his  nature  it  is  his  source  of  warmth  «,d  life. 
His  mmd  and  affections  imply  the  home  as  certainly  as  hb 
lungs  imply  air  or  his  stomach  food.  His  heart  goes  out  to 
It  as  inevitably  as  his  hand  reaches  for  materials  and  tools. 
The  home  «  m  his  Wood.  IBs  whole  spiritual  nature  is 
built  around  this  institution  «s  his  body  is  nuwle  to  fit  his 
physical  environment. 

Child  and  family  are  correlative  -  parts  of  a  single  whole. 
They  g^w  together  and  a  e  in  truth  but  one  phenomenon. 
It  was  the  nse  ^  the  family  that  made  infancy  possible.  - 
that  long  penod  of  helpfesmess  in  a  world  of  internecine 
competition.   Without  H  there  could  never  have 
chUd  at  all.   He  is  the  creature  of  this  institution  as  the 
hsh  IS  the  creature  of  the  sea,  the  bird  of  the  air;  and  hk 
thought  and  tendency  has  reference  to  it.   So  when  a 
child  acts  father  or  mother  for  an  afternoon  he  not  only 
experiences  an  interesting  personality,  but  he  sees  an  aU 
envelQpmg  rela::.n  from  the  other  side,  enters  now  inti. 

Mda  p^  ' ^  "  •  P^** 
Stwal  mwibership.  which  tiius  has  its  first  growth  in 
the  imier  cfrde  of  the  lH»i^  k  the  g«*t  monUiring  influent 


134  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

in  our  lives,  the  source  of  obligation  and  self-sacrifice.  The 
mark  of  al!  mnmVty  is  subordination.   Surrender  to  some- 
thing  greater  tixan  one's  self  is  of  the  essence  of  the  spiritual 
Me  — of  all  life,  for  there  are  not  two  kinds.   The  egoist 
inevitably  shriveb  in  mind  as  in  soul;  and  if  his  body, 
bemg  tough  and  well-fed,  survives,  it  is  rather  as  an  en- 
cumbrance  than  as  an  instrument  of  life.  Suboidination 
IS  the  first  lesson  in  the  art  of  living.   The  growing  artist 
13  not  the  shck  and  talented  young  man  who  has  learned 
the  tncK  and  become  self-satisfied,  but  he  who  has  heard 
the  god  and  stm  humbly  listens  for  him.  The  growing 
man  m  any  calling  is  the  one  who  feeb  his  insignifi. 
cance  in  presence  of  its  greater  laws.   It  is  when  you  lose 
yourself  in  the  game,  give  yourself  to  the  cause,  begin  to 
fed  that  the  work  is  bigger  than  you  are.  that  full  life  pos- 
a«He8  you,  or  that  true  growth  takes  place.   The  game 
the  cause,  the  work,  is  in  truth  your  huger  self  that  calls  U> 
you.   You  can  go  forth  to  welcome  it  or  you  can  sit  shiver- 
ing  at  home.    But  it  is  only  as  you  do  give  yourself  to  it 
that  the  greater  current  will  take  and  carry  you  along. 

The  doctor  is  as  strong  a  witness-  on  this  point  as  is  the 
educator  or  the  moralist.  He  tells  you  to  forget  yourself, 
to  travel,  play  games,  take  up  some  outside  interest  The 
prescription  may  not  be  verj'  practicable  of  execution,  but 
Its  aim  IS  plain  enough.   The  way  to  save  soul  or  hodx 
physical  or  spiritual  life,  is  to  have  your  treasure,  object  of 
devotion,  moral  center  of  gravity,  outside  yourself.  The 
very  bones  and  muscles  wouW  rather  be  going  somewhere, 
if  It  is  only  to  the  postoffice,  than  merely  takmg  a  constitu- 
tional.   The  mmd  soon  wearies  of  self-improvement.  Tlie 
veiy  word  "culture"  gives  everyone  a  sinking  feeling: 
rmther  go  fishing,  if  it  is  only  for  flounders  -  go  after  some- 
thing «t  fewt        refiwhing  than  your  own  insides  -  than 


SOCIAL  PLAT  OF  THE  DRAMATIC  AGE  lis 

fish  forever  with  this  melancholy  bait,  or  ratlw  fc,  tki. 
■»d«ch„  5-  fish  of  self-imp^vement.  The  hZtuX^ 
'"""P'"-  It  can  go  out  to  many  7Z 
^,  some  not  so  go«J  «,  other.;  tat  it  must  ^outt 
something,  ,f  .,c  «  only  ,  prinm^  ^  riveK.  brim 
fore  ,t  e.„  beat  to  any  p„rp„«,.  y„„  n,„.t  k«  ^ 
to^mj^you  must  lose  your  heart  or  y«.  ^Z,"^ 

And  the  subwdinatioB  mort  nec.  jary  to  health  in  human 
bemgs  .sth«  of  social  m«nbenhip.  It  is  not  enough  tTk 
S^ven  to  your  art  or  b„sa«,.   You  mm  b. 
to  your  parents,  your  dty,  your  communily.  We^T^ 
our  nature  m^corably,  and  independent  of  any  cho^  ^ 

tomal.e„rma:^„^;l«r^-rr^^^^^ 
tT  Pi"™*''  «  "  P-^fe^on  to  which  w.  dl 
!^*Jr  .pprentieed  thereto  for  the  last  few  S 
JW,  and  according  to  our  proficiency  in  which  m  » 
judged  n«  ^  ^  ^T^  by  ourselvt  " 

me  home  B  the  &rt  (bm  0,  tk.  rt,,,,  the  imnost  circle 

schodof  the  belonging  instinct.   It  is  through  the  child'. 
^^^^  thefamily  that  the  citizen  in'him  gTli 

n>«»lwi.  The  home  B  the  natunl  habitat  of  the  human 
young,  of  the  child's  soul  ev«.  ™»,  th,„  „,  hi.  JH" 
moral  center  areund  which  he  is  formed 

fck  «^  b-t  he  feds  it  none  the  less  and  is  compelled 
^  He  act.  father,  mother,  hou«.,  instinctively  and  in 

w^Z^jTi.  t  '"^  «  that  -Udi  tl^ 
wolf  ran  wti,  d«      „  a,  b«  d«rote  U,  life  to  the  hin^ 


136  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

For  the  sune  reason  he  acts  out  those  trades  that  touch 
the  family  — as  doctor,  farmer,  carpenter.   These  interest 

hmi  as  types,  embodiments  of  the  family  relation  to  the 
outside  world.  The  radiance  diminishes  as  you  recede  from 
the  hone  untQ  it  merges  into  the  zom  of  cowparatively 
liaphasard  selection. 

A  failure  to  recognize  that  the  chiU's  mtmt  in  cmam 
trades  is  due  to  their  relation  to  the  home  has  led  aome 
educators  to  prefer  that  city  children  in  the  kindergarten 
should  impersonate  the  crossing  sweeper,  whom  they  have 
•ctaaUy  seen,  nAm  tium  the  farmer  whom  they  have 
not  seen,  as  tending  to  arouse  a  mxm  pnetieal  iirteiwt 
Their  mistake  is  that  involved  in  all  (iiectly  practical 
education  of  children  of  the  dramatic  age.   It  is  true,  for 
instance,  that  the  immature  hand,  which  might  have  squan- 
dered its  time  on  dolls,  may  be  taught  to  hold  knitting,  and 
in  a  year  or  two  ahnost  to  knit.  So  the  imagination  that 
sees  a  cow  or  a  steam  engine  in  what  is  really  only  a  bit  of 
wood  can  be  set  right,  and  the  chUd  put  to  work,  instead,  at 
studying  the  difference  between  spruce  and  maple.  He 
oouW  thus  be  made  to  acquire,  in  the  three  years  of  the 
dramatic  age,  ahnost  as  much  practical  knowledge  on  that 
head  as  a  child  of  ten  would  pick  up  in  five  minutes;  but 
meantime  the  age  for  the  inward  realization  of  the  fanuly 
the  trades  related  to  it,  and  other  things  that  really  interest 
the  child  — of  obtaming  a  sympathetic  insight  into  his 
surroundmgs— will  have  gone  by  and  left  its  aU  important 
function  unfulfilled. 

The  precocious  acquirement  of  knowledge  is  a  process 
by  which  one  thing  done  badly  at  the  wrong  time  takes  the 
place  of  two  things  that  might  each  have  been  done  well 
when  the  tune  was  ripe  for  it.  The  way  to  cultivate  a  child 
or  any  growing  thing  is  to  help  it  as  it  is  growing  now,  not 


SOCIAL  PLAY  OP  THE  DBAMATIC  ABB  w 

to  do  wh.t  would  hdp  it  «  «m.  otiw  time.  The  end  of 
he  apple  tree,  from  ou,  p„i^t  of  view,  I.  .pZ  Bm 
there  «  no  use  talldng  apples  to  it  in  the  spriT^wu 
««  P»t«,  its  buds  from  fr«,t  or  its  leavr?*m 
pin-*  or  e«>  supply  it  better  diet  for  its  roots  TwHltl 

may  look  like  apples  to  you,  b.  ™„  th.t  the  t«e  bZJZ 
way        the  time  and  that  yom.  best  oont^STfat 

pZt.  whos.^ll^""'  "  to 
^  o,  ,!;^^  "  ^  «»'  "en  of 

the^S^^  "  r  ™f  "'"j-t  o,  child«n  of 
me  ortmatic  age.  There  is  also  the  society  of  their  en- 

unfl  he  approaches  three  years  old  -  hj  fele  .oJ«I 
toward  h,s  equals.   At  those  functions  at XTTh^ 

.0.  U,an  a  pt^TT^r^^^^ 
a  pkythmg  from  the  hand  of  another  child  to  p^3^ 
«».«n«s  of  doing  anything  unkind.   He  isl^^Tt 

take  it  off  a  cushion  or  .  ch'T*  ZL' 
oWwdl  sometimes,  it  is  tn,e,  show  an  inZI  tl'Z 

uiM  dOM  not  rtioBgljr        to  any  common  enteiw 


188  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

JjiLte."^  hi.  Mtu«J  •beoiptbn  in  his  own 

But  at  somewhere  about  the  age  of  three  there  comes  s 
change.   The  child  now  seeks  the  society  of  other  children, 
•ndbqpn.  not  merely  to  like  to  have  them  round  but 
co^te  with  them.  Indeed  the  play  of  this  age  is.  in 
form  at  least,  more  social  than  for  many  years  thereafter: 
for  It  IS  always  cooperative,  the  age  of  competition  not 
haymg  yet  amved.   The  children  now  join  together  in  their 
iHuWing  operations;  their  dolls  form  a  visiting  acquaint- 
•nee;  they  themselves  form  households,  or  armies  for  the 
expulsion  of  the  mv«ier;  or  p«»ent  George  Washington, 
with  a  select  group  of  his  Mjng  generals,  looking  stemhr 
out  upon  his  country's  foes. 

It  isveiy  important  that  this  new  social  tendency  should 
have  Its  way.  For  ti,e  American  chUd  especially,  who  for 
aJl  these  years  has  h«l  the  ca«  of  the  whole  family  upon  his 
shoulders,  directing  the  actions  of  his  father  and  mother 
of  the  servants  and  the  stranger  within  the  gates,  it  is  weU 
Aatne  should  occasionally  have  a  chance  to  lay  aside  the 
cares  of  offi^  and  unbend.  It  is  too  much  for  any  one  to 
have  to  make  «U  the  decisions  as  to  what  is  to  be  done. 
^  in  the  society  of  his  contemporaries  he  finds  others 
ready  to  relieve  him  of  this  task.   He  is  now  among  his 
equals  and  after  the  first  shock  of  finding  himself  seiioushr 
opposed  he  enjoys  the  experience. 
It  is  not  only  American  children  in  whoD  .  this  need  has 

shtl  J^"^  "^"^  ""d"  seven 

should  be  brought  together  in  groups  by  nurses  instructed 
to  teach  them  songs  and  games,  -  which  is,  I  think,  the 
«wh^t  mention  of  the  Wndergarten.  The  mere  coming 
together --leammg,  as  Goethe  put  it,  to  look  level  as  well 
as  up  or  down-is  an  essential  part  of  any  form  of  child- 


SOCIAL  PLAY  OF  THE  DRAMATIC  AGE  189 

gardening  that  can  by  any  possiMity  succeed.  Gw.t  «« 
the  dmcivantages  of  the  sheltered  Kfe,  at  least  iaLt! 
growing  thing  is  sheltered  from  the  ^  ^ 
etanents  on  wUch  its  life  depends. 

Veiy  chawcteristic  of  the  play  of  this  age  is  the  rin.r 
game,  and  ve^  significant  Tte  fairie.  u^t^  dtce"^ 
nngs;  and  these  chUdren  are  stiU  in  the  .g.  «f  faST  U 

tea.  and  something  very  important.  There  is  in  the^ 
««iie  the  senae  of  belonging  to  a  social  whole.  It  is  ™f 
merely  you  and  me  and  Mary  and  Jim  and  Mike  hU  f 
us  together.  We  feel  and^  .bout  ti^l^  ^'"'^^^^^^ 
^  a  sense  of  personal  loss  if  it  gets  bnZrt:- J^l^ 
quashed  m  on  one  side  gives  a  sense  of  impaired  Z^Z^ 
hke  havmgyour  hat  bmnped  m.  and  we  hastening  ^ 
with  much  squealing,  to  Zd  ^r  ro^d  i  t  ^ab  ^' 

i^a^drfir^"?^'""^"''*'-  -io^e^^dslo^h 
^.  and  we  find  ourselves  engaged  to  maintain  it  in  its  intl 
my.  It  IS  an  extension  of  ourselves,  a  new  personj^ 
We  act  now  not  as  individuals,  but  as  the  ring;  it7s^* 
IS  our  success,  and  what  hits  it  hits  us.  The  r  nriike^ 
family,  is  a  sociia  whole.  M-«k-«.i.-  •  the 
in  a  ««„  .      Membership  m  it  is  participation 

m  a  firm,  a  corporation,  a  p*r«wa.   The  ring  «une  is  the 
firs  form  of  the  democratic  state,  as  the  I^TtL  o^! 
m«l  of  the  patriarchal  fonn  of  govenunent^ 
Children  m  the  ring  games,  as  in  the  famUy  relation 

not uupuhe  to  thmk  about  other  people,  or  to  feel  their 


>«  PUY  IN  EDUCATION 

M  a,  the  social  body  of  which  you  wd  they  i«  owts- 
to  have  th.  K,ul  of  it  in  you  ami  act  out  fron.  that.  No^ 
h«^or  elaboration  of  the  relation,  of  the  individuj 
mmbm  to  .kH  otiwr  would  ever  explain  this  ne^-  experi- 
™«  any  more  th«,  ,,„„io„  ^  fc,  ^,^„^  j„ 
^s,t,o„    The  member  of  a  family,  fi™,  u«n.  th.t  i«  , 
real  existence  enters  into,  and  is  entered  by,  it,  corpmte 
pemnality  ^d.  so  far  as  he  is  truly  a  memL, 
J^!  ".^Z'^r""^  by  his  individual  will  when 
m  hi.  mdmduJ  „p«,ay.  Th.  citizen  does  not  mereh 
serve  h.s  country ;  ,,e his  «».t,y  -  ^  wj^  L 

""^  *^       if  i»-Pc«.  i.  in^inct  ^ 

I  do  «otmea„  that  thereis  in  the  socUl  whole  a  personality 
■»  «y  nipematunU  Knae  -  anythmg  tor  instance  that 

r^'.'u^™  "  "'  '"•"^'"t  A"  •l'^  to  were 
to  be  kdled  -  or  that  it  ha,  ^  ^  ^ 

seve^l  mmds.    Nor  do  I  suppose  there  i,  any^p^ 

fr^  »e  .ijdnrKhJ  to  another.  What  I  do  mean  is  Z 
«d.  -"dividual  m.mb«rf,tru.«K-iety  conceives  not  me^ 
of  a  number  „  other  individial,  «ti.g  with  him, 

coniorate  whole,  that  he  act,  to^arf  this  «^  1^ 

«b  out  fr^m  It  as  it,  voice  and  representative  and 
tkrt  he  wmne.  that  the  other  members  do  the  same 
team  country,  family,  con»«tion,  i,  «,  idel  Zy  eTt! 
mg  and  acting  m  the  minds  of  its  member.  It  i,  L  !1 
m«nber,  wha,  he  i.,  able  to  see  and  feel  in  it.  I^'^^ 
«d  m«ntena„ce  is  an  act  of  faith,  -  the  faith  of  eac^^ 
^^ceptiou  of  it  and  in  the  correspondhig  t^^, 


SOCIAL  PLAV  OF  TKU  DRAMATIC  AOk  HI 
Mm,  like  the  other  social  anim»b  hav.  tl.1. 
th^faith  instinetive,,.   H  i,  a  W  iftT^ 

-.«a  b^-^^hr:  .n:;::,;e:;4  r?:k^^^^^^^^ 

thesute,  g,ve  it  reality  to     and  give  u,  WtHH^^' 

authority  of  a  De«i'ri!?    ■       1"*"°'       '■"^  <^ 

hisirvidr';Scf '«.ttV  ""^ 
fortune,  even  hi,  life  „r  death  be^l  ,  iT  J"" 

importance.   He  ente«  U,e  orhrT  ^ 

»d  move,  with  the        Ltli  vlfT" 

.rowing  n,indTfa*ltt':i::ttU"t^T  ll 
We  been  any  child  at  .11  ««»  would  not 

^  nm.  wha  th  ^hiid  r;  :r 

branT^E^pTi;  feti^'li"'  v 

>«ek  the  chief  LfaofmlSr^elT"'  ""k""?" 

it  t^"  r 

function.  No  otW  pwm  Lr  .  P"^""" 
<»  «i*e  it.  pl^TinrS;  T^'  o'  then., 

«»"»»"xth«n8e,andcannon»re 


PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

be  Pnduced  tram  other  etemt-uts  than  sight  cn  be  com- 
pounded  out  of  taste  and  he^fag.  Thoimnda  of  years  o/ 
sharing  our  hearth  and  home  have  not  sufficed  to  fkmeitiaite 

the  cat.  He  is  still  the  cat  that  walks  by  himself,  b^ 
m|W,bersh,p  ,s  out  a  very  feeble  element  of  the  feline  soul. 
Th,  only  way  to  belong  is  to  belong ;  an<l  the  only  way  to 
develop  th«  facdty  is  by  bdonging.  The  child  in  whom 
he  belongmg  mstmct  has  not  been  exe«Aied  «»ofding  to 
Jts  nature  ^  M  a  „  ays  lack  the  power  of  expressmg  it  TT» 
^tmct  atself  will  atn>phy.  The  family.  L  ^ieXJZ 
l«rt  out  of  hmi,  or  only  partially  developecJ. 

instfct*tt*T''n  d«vel0P»»ent  is  now.  when  the 
in  mc  clearly  calls  for  exerd*.  Our  anawer  to  this  call 
will  determme  the  child's  power  of  membe«hip.  the  «rt^ 
to  which,  so  far  as  he  is  concerned,  the^or  f«X^ 
jAui^or  any  social  or^^anism  shall  exist.  This^Xer. 
Uw  the  lest,  must  be  developed  when  the  time  is  ripe-  if 
ft  misses  thB  firat  instinctive  tr«„ing.  its  most  pZil 
r^td^p"^  No«h«^t«cperie«»j;.eti^ 


CHAPTER  XZ 


RHYTHM 

A  FEATURE  of  every  ring  game  is  the  cbantbg  otm^mt 

•co«it  it  come  down  on  with  the  combined  weight  of  the 
whole  comp.«y,  ^  the  .pp««t  intention  of  'd^vbg  it 
nto  the  spmal  marmw  of  .0  hm^B ;  the  cW  i.  re^ed 

in  an  ecsta.    of  common  comdomimi. 

When^witb  the  succeeding  age  of       -  -  -  Went  ihm 
««w  it«lf  oeues  to  be  rhythmical  ,  • 

iiithef«rfcoimtmgout--Zrml.-  /V^^ 
_-.k:^  u  J™""*"'"*  nif  eaie,  mmie,  mo.  etc 

«  I»rt  of  the  «t.blfahed  ritud  «f  tfc.  pJ^^^Z 
mstonoe  never  take  the  short  cut  of  ind<^e  lirrtTrtT 

During  the  di»»tfc,gett,„i,,fc^  . 

fu™.  mten^iSed,  but  socM  pe„J,i«  „ 
aTSjif'lr-  mentionri^ 
"»o  tu  iMUfMl  tk  reprobMion  of  the  compinjr,  to  the 


144 


PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


tune  (the  identical  one,  I  should  imagine,  that  the  old  cow 
died  of)  that  is  also  appropriate  to  the  well-known  lyric : 


r.  . 

~i — 

H  ' 

U — 1 

-» 

VVad-ing  in   the  waa  •  ter,      Maa-ma  told  me  naa-  ter. 


The  early  saga  tendency  persists  through  thb  age,  along 
with  that  to  celebrate  almost  any  statanent  in  a  chant  and 
to  turn  any  repeated  movement  into  a  dance.  As  the  age 
wanes  into  the  succeeding  one,  the  dancing  and  singing  become 
more  specialized,  and  the  hurdy-gurdy  has  power  to  turn  eveiy 
street  into  a  ballroom,  at  least  for  the  little  girls. 

Rhythmic  play  does  not  indeed  begin  with  the  dramatic 
age.  A  sense  of  rhythm  is  manifest  very  eariy  in  some  of 
the  movements  of  the  arms  and  legs  and  in  the  first  forms 
of  voca'  exercise.  There  is  rhythm  in  that  emphatic  repeti- 
tion of  one  syllable  —  gaa-gaa-gaa-gaa-jraa  —  of  which  the 
earliest  discourse  so  generally  consbts  and  in  which  the 
orator  takes  such  evident  satbfaction,  as  of  one  who  has 
settled  that  question  at  all  events.  The  cogency  whidi  the 
youthful  Demosthenes  so  evidently  feels  is  in  fact  present 
in  the  logical  completeness  of  the  rhythm  itself.  He  really 
did  land  on  the  last  syllable  in  a  way  to  clinch  the  metric 
proportion.  So  also  chfldrm  often  do  their  kicking  —  both 
heels  at  once,  bang,  bang,  bang,  on  the  bed  or  aoiu  —  to  a 
v^ry  spirited  sort  of  march  time.  Much  of  the  symmetrical 
crab-like  movement  with  the  arms,  bringing  the  hands  to- 
gether like  a  pair  of  ice  tongs,  evidently  gives  a  rhythmic 
satisfaction,  —  a  fact  that  has  been  recognized  by  the  elders 
m  the  game  of  pat-»K>ake. 

Pat-a-cake  itself  is  the  bq^inning  ol  a  new  manifestatum 
of  the  rhythmic  impulse,  ooiiil»ning  as  it  does  ihytlm  of 


RHYTHM 


145 


motion  and  rhythm  of  sound  —  dancmg,  music,  poetry, 
and  social  intercourse  —  all  in  one.  Many,  and  highly 
satisfactory  to  the  youthful  poet  and  dramatist,  are  the 
games  of  this  daas,  tuck  as  rodc<«-by-baby,  ride  a  eotk 
horse,  I  had  a  little  hobbyhorse,  this  littk  p^  went  to  mar- 
ket.  These  games  fulfill  the  original  undifferentiated  rhyth- 
mic unpulse,  to  which  all  forms  of  manifestation  are  much 
alike,  and  which  loves  thus  to  use  them  all  at  once.  In 
than  we  see  rhythm  in  its  aboriginal  form,  parent  of  the 
Muses,  for  whidi  song  and  dance  and  poetry  are  not  yet 
sqMuated.  Mother  Latona  herself  is  revealed  to  us  in  the 
early  mother  play.  It  is  true  this  uudifFcrentiated  form  of 
rhythm  has  its  forerunners  in  the  kicking  and  talking 
rhythms;  but  these  soon  instinctively  coalesce.  They  are 
perhaps  the  ancertors  of  the  gods  rather  than  the  gods 
themsdves.  Tlie  tmooinmitted  rhythmic  desne  fincb  its 
outlet  now  here,  now  there,  then  everywhere  at  once,  before 
it  again  separates  into  more  special  and  more  highly  devd- 
oped  manifestations. 

Grown  people,  it  must  be  admitted,  have  an  essential 
part  in  the  devebpmoit  <rf  ^is  !(Hh^  dass  of  scmg  and  move- 
ment games.  The  child  knows  nothing  ot  pigs  going  to 
market,  of  adventures  with  a  hobbyhorse,  or  of  ladies  with 
bells  on  their  toes,  until  somebody  instructs  him  in  such 
matters.  But  he  is  nevertheless  responsible  for  these  mani- 
festations  as  the  publk  a  always  responsibte  for  the  sort 
of  ent^tunment  it  receives.  He  and  his  instinc^ve  jmdi- 
lections  constitute  the  demand  which  the  inventions  of  his 
elders  strive  to  satisfy.  These  jingles  first  appear  in  the 
response  of  grown  people  to  the  child's  rhythmic  "talk." 
They  begin  by  saying  "  gaa-gaa-gaa-^aa  "  after  him,  following 
his  accent  and  festiue,  aa  an  instinethre  agn  ^at  thfe  is  a 
icqMMuive  wotid  and  that  hii  eiort  was  notiMd  and  imd»> 


PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

stood.  Much  nonsense  talked  to  children  is  pernicious, 
but  not  so  this  first  answer  to  their  signals.  Rhyme  ^ 
reasKi  Me.  indeed,  two  modes  of  thought,  each  with  a  logic 
<rf  It.  own.  and  the  that  responds  to  rhyme  when 

^appears  alone,  as  it  does  at  im.  is  •  sound  one.  If  tlie 
Martians  wa,t  untU  we  can  talk  plain  prose  to  them  before 
th^  answer  I  /ear  the  establishment  of  oommunicatkm 
will  be  long  delayed.  «««»iiob 

After  a  time,  when  the  main  stem  of  rhythm  -  with  its 
combined  expression  in  dnuna.  dance,  and  song -takes 
definite  form  m  the  ring  game,  the  instinct  throws  off  a 
branch,  combmmg  song  and  story,  but  without  a  dance 
•ccompanmient.-from  which  branch  again,  a  little  later 

,^irfr  ^«  '^^y      only  to  the  rhythmic 

Jingle  but  without  a  time,  again  separates.  (The  final 
separation,  giving  us  the  story  without  rhythm,  comes  at 
a  later  stage.)  There  thus  appear  the  distinctly  Uter«y- 
^  distmguished  from  the  musical  and  athletic  -  forms  of 
rhythm,  so  weU  iUustrated  in  the  selected  wisdom  of  Mother 
w)08e. 

I  Wieve  some  people  disapprove-of  this  sportful  old  kdy 
as  a  first  guide  to  children  m  the  august  leafans  of  Uteratuie. 
Certamly  some  of  her  more  ancient  lyrics  are  crude  enouch* 
and  once  m  a  long  time  a  Stevenson  or  a  Mrs.  FollencomeJ 
•tong  who  can  improve  on  them.   But  on  the  whole  her 
melodies  are  not  only  harmless  but  they  have  the  great 
merit  of  possessing  pith  and  point  suited  to  the  child's 
understanding,  and  of  being  free  from  tiresome  and  extraoe. 
ous  morality.   But  the  prose  meaning  of  these  early  das- 
Mcs  (some  people  say  the  same  of  Shakespeare)  is  compara- 
tovety^a  mmor  mrtter.  The  sound  is  the  important  thing. 

the  chad  IS  neeemiay  only  a  ittie  less  vague  than  tliat 


RHYTHM 


147 


of  the  lyries  that  they  hsve  sopeneded.  Their  merit  is 

in  that  they  are  of  marked  and  varied  riiytlmi,  m  married 
to  the  words  that  the  two  inevitably  stidc  together  and 
stick  m  the  memory  as  a  permanent  possession  and  a  means 
of  further  aiMmilation.  What  they  mainly  do  for  the  child 
is  to  ghw  hhn  the  hmdom  of  the  world  of  rhythm,  teach 
him  the  first  paces  of  the  Bmid,  the  varyh«  gaits  of  thought 
and  action.  It  b  an  important  enlargement  of  one's  world 
to  be  made  free  of  a  variety  of  meters,  to  be  enabled  to  think 
and  act  in  trochee,  dactyl,  or  iambus,  as  the  spirit  moves, 
and  to  entCT  into  the  fedings  of  others  who  do  the  same  — 
to  understand  with  Touchstone  who  Tune  amUes  withal, 
who  Tune  trots  withal,  and  ydm  he  galkqxi  withal,  and  how 
it  feels  to  have  him  do  it. 

Children  do  m  fact  take  up  the  various  rhythms  into  their 
thought  and  action  at  a  very  early  age,  and  the  lyrics  they 
compose  s1k>w  traces  ol  their  new  literary  power  —  as  seen, 
for  instance,  in  the  foDowing  stansu  composed  by  a  child 
of  less  than  two  years  old,  much  and  varkn^  repeated  bat 
m  substantially  the  following  fonn : 

Aroemoraa  to  a  Smm  SmuM 

Sadt,  Poone,  tidcety  Oone. 
How  does  your  garden  go  ? 
She  is  the  Toozie,  she  is  the  Oont, 
She  is  the  Baby  Bo. 


wame  ur  ajo  uing  hxb  PAnm  awuaiiM> 

Journey 

The  ledy  she  cooks  at  the  bade  of  the  stair. 

And  when  die  woke  up  again 

Who  do  you  thak  she  sawT 

P^>»  and  Mamma  come  bade  again 

Ftom  Dttbbelin,  Bubbdin,  Ubbelin. 


148 


PLAY  IN  EDUCATiaN 


Tlie  ongin  of  the  lady  who  cooks  — a  great  character  at 
that  time,  often  reappearing  in  the  productions  of  this  jMrtio- 
ular  child  —  I  have  bem  unabfe  to  trace. 

A  special  manifestation  of  the  rhythmic  i^f-^  Mag 
the  dramatic  age  is  in  the  popularity  of  the  swing,  a  popu- 
larity universal  and  extraordinary,  first  attMsUng  to  the 
pfttwmally  supplied  apparatus  for 

Swing,  swong,  the  days  are  l<mg, 
Johuie  shafl  have  a  new  master, 

but  soon  applying  to  the  famUiar  and  more  generaUy  avail- 
able arrangement  of  rope  and  board.   ChUdren,  if  permitted 
to  do  80,  will  swmg  for  ahnost  any  length  of  time.   A  small 
girl  on  one  of  the  first  pdbfic  playgrounds,  who  was  forced 
to  surrender  her  swing  to  another  child  at  eleven  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  said,  "I  should  think  you  might  let  me  keep 
on;  I  have  been  here  since  six."   Swings  on  a  playground 
never  stop,  and  I  have  no  doubt  that,  with  a  litUe  ingenuity 
and  a  suffieieot  plant,  an  enterprismg  commmaty  might 
supply  itself  with  electric  Ugktioi  by  this  means.  Often 
the  mere  "See  saw,  Marjorie  Daw"  movement  is  varied  by 
the  development  of  stunts  -  standing  up  singly  or  in  twos, 
gomg  up  until  the  rope  slacks  and  gives  an  exhUaratmg 
jounce,  jumpmg  off.  sometimes  jumpmg  on,  kicking  the 

ceilmg  If  the«  is  one  -  a.  wsl  as  by  fetting  the  old  cat  die. 
But  even  straight  swinging,  fomard  and  back,  the  sune 
motion  endlessly  repeated,  has  a  perennial  charm. 

The  source  of  this  fascination  is  probably  unpossible 
to«plam.  A  part  of  it  to  some  chUdren  is  in  the  stimulus 
tothe  Bn«ginrtk».  I  «■  iWMmber  dashing  along  on  horse- 
back  hotly  poNMd  by  .smhinsUuns  of  wolves,  Kickapoos 
and  ShawnMs.  wk»  mm  tkmy,  jumping  out  from  bduod 


RHYTBM 

Ha^a^  wwe  to  be  distanced  only  by  the  most 

«t»oidii»iy  le^  perfonned  by  the  gaUant  animal  I  K>de 
-  a  swmg  about  five  feet  long.  There  i..  I  think,  something 
m  the  nature  of  foreign  travel  in  rushing  through  the 
such  a  speed,  past  scenes  which  the  motion  stimulates  the 
iiM|^«tion  to  conjure  up.  No  doubt  the  rapid  motion  itself 
u  also,  «.  in  maoy  other  sports,  a  hwge  part  of  the  attrac 
tion. 

There  is  also  something  pleasant  in  the  element  of  faniw 
-as  the  proprietors  of  pleasure  parks  have  so  fully 
i«d.   There  is  no  short  cut  to  the  emotions  like  the  rapid 
drop    It  gives  at  once  the  same  visceral  sensations  (which 
are  the  emotK,n  «»ordmg  to  William  James)  which  it  would 
otherwise  requu^  a  full-blown  melodnmia  to  produce.  It 
IS  an  interesting  fact,  at  all  events,  that  ahnost  aO  of  the 
successful  playground  apparatus  furnishes  this  sensation 
-  from  the  most  ekborate  giant  stride  or  traveling  rina 
to  the  ancestral  cellar  doc»>.  ^ 
But  I  bdieve  that  the  chief  attraction  of  the  swing  b  in 
Its  satisfaction  of  the  sense  of  rhythm.  It  fulfils  the  rinrth- 
mic  mipulse  in  a  special  form  that  is  very  deep  in  us.  nam^ 
that  of  the  perpetuaUy  recurring  antithesis.   The  swing 
fo™d  ami  the  swing  back,  with  the  pause  between  them 
of  an  accumuUtaig  m»puh»,  present  thU  antithesis  of  the 

and  backward -up  and  down -society  ud  soBtude- 

rr^LIIi?^''^''"""^"*^""*"'  Democrat -Tweedle. 
dum,  IVeedledee  -  you  can  go  on  forever  with  this  altema- 

become,  the  moie  mddhimt  to  what  »  happening,  or  is 
going  to  happen.  The  experience  is  hypnotic:  as  a  fHemi 
of  mine  has  put  it.  swinging  is  a  form  of  sleep. 
The  alternating  rhythm  that  sets  children  swinging  le^)- 


PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


pears  throughout  life  in  many  forms.  There  is  faseinatkm 

in  antithesis  of  sound  as  well  as  in  that  of  motion.   I  remem- 
ber a  small  child  who  spent  weeks  repeating  "the  butcher 
the  bear;  the  butcher  the  bear,"  and  another  who  found 
added  exhilaratton  in  her  bath  by  steadUy  proclaiming 
"I'm  the  bumsey,  Ma's  the  wassen'miks!"  This  altema- 
tion  runs  through  all  our  musb,  poetry,  literature,  architec- 
ture, decoration.    Popular  songs  are  often  built  on  nothing 
else.   The  very  names  Josephus  and  Bohunker,  in  one 
fondly  remembered,  are  of  such  satisfying  antithesis  that 
it  seems  strange  their  fame  could  ever  die;  the  Walrus  and 
the  Carpenter  are  another  pair  that  never  will.   A  part  of 
the  beauty  of  the  Psalms  is  that  we  seem  to  hear  in  their 
antiphony  the  eternal  rhythm  of  morning  and  evening, 
day  and  night,  the  breaking  and  the  receding  wave.  This 
alternation  created  the  term  rima  of  the  Renaissance  and 
all  that  has  followed  from  it,  down  to  the  common-sense 
antitheses  of  Macaulay  and  the  political  oratoiy  of  the 
commonplace  that  echoes  these. 

VVhat  is  at  the  bottom  of  the  rest  and  satisfaction  that 
swinging  and  other  forms  of  the  alternating  rhythm  bring 
us  it  is  impossible  to  say.  It  seems  to  correspond  to  the 
inevitable  rhythm  of  human  life;  exertion  and  satisfoction, 
going  forth  and  coming  home,  meeting  at  night  and  parting 
in  the  morning,  a  question  and  an  answer,  venture  and 
success,  a  demand  and  a  supply.  But  in  the  main  I  think 
our  satirfaction  hen,  as  in  the  othw  forms  of  rhythm,  can- 
not be  analyzed.  We  like  it  because  we  are  tuned  to  like 
it.   As  ever>'  bridge  has  its  keynote  to  which  it  vibrates, 
so  we  vibrate  to  this  sort  of  theme.    Rhythm  is  an 
ultimate  fact  of  our  spiritual  make-up.    It  is  one  of 
the  motives  that  formed  us  and  that  still  persist  and  act 
throui^iout  our  being.  We  are  oursdves  a  song,  an  alton** 


RHYTHM 

a  mrtnc  composition,  and  to  that  which  strikes  the 
meta  to  which  we  hve  we  inevitably  give  response.  There 
are.  it  is  true,  phyacd  nmons  why  inspimtion  and  expira- 
tion.  systole  and  diastole,  feasting  and  farting,  work 
r^t,  must  alternate;  but  our  ready  acceptance  of  their 
alternatu)n  is  rather  to  be  explained  by  the  fact  that  we  are, 
^tuaUy  lyeakmg.  rhythmic  creatures  than  our  joy  in 
rt^byth^phyrfciJcoiK^     Very  possibly  NaU 
made  our  spirits  rhythmic  in  o«ier  that  we  might  fit  in  with 
the  rhythm  of  all  her  other  works.  includingT  owL^ 
cal  make-up.   But  given  our  constitution  as  it  is.  our  ^ 
rhjtbn  ui  not  denved  from  its  physical  convenience,  Z,  t 
an  ultimate  and  controlling  fact.  mn  is 

Tilting  supplies  another  form  of  alternating  rhythm  that 
cluldren  like;  and  it  is  interesting  to  observe  hT^  a 
part  on  any  successful  playground  is  taken  by  the  t«^ 
flying  and  traveling  rings,  and  teeter  ladder,  which  a^ 
ous  forms  of  tilt  or  swing.  The  really  popular  uses  of  h^ 
^on^  bars  and  Wder.  «e  Urgely  in  the  swinging 

Rhythm,  which  thus  takes  its  start  in  the  comWned  lock, 
mgand  vocalizing  play,  and  develops  through  Mother 
Goose  on  the  one  hand  and  the  ring  games  on  the  other 
mto  dwHsing  hterature,  «ui  the  drama,  is  th«,ugh  life  the 
bas.3  of  all  the  arts,  or  at  least  an  essential  element  in  Tu 
\\.thout  the  activity  within  him  of  this  instinct  a  m«  c«k 
not  be  an  artist;  without  so  much  of  it  as  to  render  h^ 
sympathetic  vibration,  he  cam,ot  be 

And  the  essence  of  rhythm  is  always  in  the  sense  of  mo- 
tion.   Unless  you  feel  it  in  your  toes  you  have  not  fully 

the  arts  and  survives  in  aU  her  oflfspring.  Cbo^Mv^ 


PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


the  inspiration  for  some  of  his  music  from  Fanny  EUcr*! 
dancing.  Music  is  dancing  freed  from  the  limitations  of 
anatomy,  it  is  the  reminiscence  of  motion  in  poetry,  and 
pwrtly  even  in  arcfaiteeture.  that  carries  its  appeal.  All 
that  touches  us-movea  us.  u  we  say  -  is  motion  or  some 
translation  of  it.  And  rhythm  is  the  voice  of  motion  to  us. 
the  form  in  which  it  has  entry  to  our  minds.  Art,  in  what- 
evCTbody  it  appears,  has  always  a  dancing  fairy  at  its  heart. 
Those  who  desire  their  chUdren  to  have  the  enlargement  of 

the  great  worid  of  art  win  do  weU  to  encourage  those  pkys 
m  which,  through  bodily  motion,  the  soul  and  radiating 
center  of  all  the  arts  gets  established  in  them  and  entwined 
with  the  first  and  deepest  elements  of  their  growth. 


CHAPTER  XXI 
unmoc  AMD  UR 

product.  The  instinct  has  some  veiy  Dractieftl  um.  -...•♦li 
Of  irtudl  «prtrt»n  «  the  chMarteristic,  such  as  walking, 

Rhythm  m«k«  walking  dl  on.  ««  in^Md  of  .  wcomfa. 

o  «t.;  «ch  ,tep  not  .  new  ent.n>ri,e  but  tT^ 

the  wmtu.  that  ooim  them  i,  set  in  motion  by  the  ouH 
jng  of  .  riogb  hv«  ««1  cttau..  to  «d  thL 

»uB«ted  by  the  pre«lu,g  one.  a,  in  »  sequence  of  «u3 
^.t  h«  b«»me  habitual;  nor  is  the  simpliS 
J^tb.  he.  that  they  a«  all  alike.  „pUcas  of  at^ 

JTlir^^'*"  "^P  "P"*"!  than  .  new 

one  produced  each  tune.   1^  «,  not  nwely  stru4  Z 
to  another  like  links  in  a  chain,  nor  m^^ZS  Z 
•"aUoneact    It  is  rhythm  that  md.es  JhfaJZT'SJ 
^  of  walkmg  or  rawing,  or  of  other  forms  of  repetition. 
^  to  b.  .  of  syllables  by  becoming  aU  on. 

"Mrely  in  If.  war  ol  luud  rftet  thtongh  nducu« 


 ^ 


M«  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

many  acts  to  one,  but  in  gi  \ng  to  that  cot »  peeuiiar  pcm 
of  Its  own.   Once  he  hu.  got  into  the  swing  of  it.  got  into 
his  stride,  a  man's  gait  or  stroke  carries  film  along  bv  its 
own  nenentum.  almost  without  exertion  on  his  part.  The 
"^•••Kttfedifctwit  In  different  men;  each  has  his  own 
waJk.  set  to  h,s  own  motif .  not  only  Mbpted,  in  its  catapult 
or  flail-hke  motion,  to  the  physical  conformation  of  his  Iso. 
but  expressive  also  of  his  character  and  tem|)erament.  A 
Bostongentleman  traveling  in  Bavaria  looks  down  from 
tte  window  of  a  dww  castle  and  remarks:  "Why.  that 
boy  must  be  a  TVenont"  He  luA  never  seen  the  partic 
ular  boy.  but  he  knew  the  TVemont  waBc.  A  man  has  his 
own  gait  as  he  has  his  own  voice  or  his  own  handwritiM: 
but  It  always  has  this  in  common  with  aU  others  that,  oiiot 
■et  going,  it  does  his  walking  for  him. 

We  speak  <rf  the  burden  of  a  song,  meaning  its  time  and 
swing,  the  heft  or  lift  of  it.  The  rhythm  caities  the  walk 
upon  Its  back;  it  puts  a  soul  inside  it 

Jog  on,  jof  OB,  the  footpath  wiy.l 

And  merrily  hent  the  styles ; 
A  merry  heart  goes  aU  the  diiy. 
Your  MMi  tires  in  a  mitoHi. 

A  good  gait  has  almost  a  demon  of  its  own  that  does  the 
work.  When  the  baby  kicks  and  waves  his  arms  to  a  rhyth- 
mic  measure,  when  he  dances  and  claps  his  hands  in  time 
to  the  chanting  of  the  ring  game,  he  is  invoking  a  power 
that  Will  carry  him  over  many  a  hard  road  and  throuah 
many  a  tedious  day  in  after  life. 

Closely  allied  to  the  carrjing  power  of  rhythm  is  its 
hypnotic  effect.  The  cradle  has  been  discarded  along  with 
other  dru^.  and  fathers  no  longer  walk  the  floor  at  night 
■wmgmf  the»  wakeful  oflbpring  in  their  arms  so  habitually 


RHYTHM  AND  UPE  ^ 
M  the  comic  papers  would  have  us  think.  But  thwt  k  ii« 
ways  of  the  attainment  of  Nirvana  ^ 

.  ^i'^'uZ  "^^^  «~wn-up.  almost  as  much 

•swuhch.ld»«i.tendstoftaiintoa«rtofd»«rt.  P^nU 
engaged  .n  any  monotonous  occupation  are  apt  to  hum  or  to 

"  ""ff  accompaniment.   And  the  hZ^ 
«^^m  of  the  movement  itself,  soon  deadTmS 
■jn«»hti«i.  Part,  and  sensations  begin  to  lose  their 
sharp  out^mes  and  then  to  fad.  away,  untflwe  becor.  obUv 
.ou.  to  the  passing  time.   Repeated  «mnd  «Km 
a  uUaby.   Repeated  action,  when  we  have  got  - 

t  •  comparatively  quick  move- 

ment.  as  in  walking  or  rowing,  but  in  any  monotonous  repeti^ 

the  mind  becomes  easily  reconcUed  to  the  half  ««noteS 
concLtjon  wh.h  monotony  in  any  form  is  able  to^^ 

^*L"^  "^^^^  people  dread 

«ettfflg  .wjy  from  it  Itd«>isasortofdruritis^ 
soothmg  mliuence  of  rhythm  th.t  thwugh  the  long  in  uri« 
ha^  made  monotony  bearable  to  those  who  haJe  haTto 

walk  or  row  all  day.  or  knit  or  spin  or  tend  the  C  & 

LTrSS'l^^'  ^"^^         P~P'«  find  Tit  ^ 

«J>hm«tk«  of  the  rhythmic  instinct, 
nius  rhythm  i.  a  nareotic.  putting  the  keener  sensibilities 
to  laep  shutting  off  the  higher  »ech«d«n  and  leavmg  Sie 
rest  of  the  machmery  to  run  on  without  unnecessaiywear 
Tr^r^'Jl^  ^"""^^  Po^ST^f^ 

fZ^^r  °'  ^^'^t^  V  «Iow  to^ 

^ht!  hi"  ^  ^«  When  the 

end  hasbeen  decided  on  and  the  io«l  stietehes  far  ahead 

It  IS  a  boon  to  have  this  good  fany  d.««Kl,  w»p  ue  feti 


MICROCOPY  RESOLUTION  TEST  CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


j£   /APPLIED  \M/IIC3E  he 


PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

cloud,  and  carry  us  through  as  in  a  sleeping  car.  It  is 
well  that  the  captain  can  sometimes  set  the  course  and  go 
to  sleep.  * 

sni**™  ^  °ften  commen- 

surate  with  its  advantages  -  espedally  when  it  carries  the 
blessed  power  of  oblivion :  the  putting  to  sleep  of  the  higher 
faculties  IS  sometimes  a  perilous  proceeding.  Alcohol,  for 
instance,  produces  its  characteristic  effects  not  chiefly  as  a 
atmijJant  but  as  an  anaesthetic.    We  shall  see  when  we 

consider  the  effects  of  rhythm  atalater  period  of  growth  what 
these  dangers  are  and  how  they  may  be  lessened  or  avoided. 

If  rhythm  can  kill  time,  it  also  made  time  for  us  in  the 
fiwt  place;  or  ,f  not  quite  that,  if  it  is  not  the  veiy  substance 
of  time  to  us.  it  is  our  means  of  establishing  a  firm  hold  upon 
t- gives  It  thickness,  weight,  consistency,  and  enables  us 
to  deal  with  It  as  something  having  recognizable  parts. 

rhyl^  « the  only  measure  of  time  that  has  a  concrete  mean- 
ing for  our  fedmgs;  it  alone  gives  us  time  units  whose 
equality  we  immediately  perceive.  Rhythm  has  given  us 
our  whole  arithmetic  of  duration,  enabling  us  to  think  ahead 

T t  ^'^^  '^^^^       "'^^^^^^  °f  tl^e  distance,  to 

chart  the  future  and  the  past.  It  helps  us  to  drive  a  peg 
into  a  given  moment  and  know  in  an  intimate  way  when 
It  IS  coming  or  how  long  it  has  gone  by.  I  beUeve.  indeed, 
that  rhythm  is  important  in  our  way  of  recognizing  units  of 
any  sort  -  that,  to  some  people  at  least,  even  the  measure- 
ment of  space  becomes  most  real  when  reduced  to  units  of 
the  time  that  the  imagination  takes  to  traverse  it. 
.Ju  important  practical  faculty  which,  if  it 

should  not  be  classed  pm^isely  as  an  appKcation  of  the  sense 
of  rhythm,  is  at  least  closely  allied  to  it  and.  as  I  bdieve^ 


RHYTHM  AND  LIFE  157 
greatly  assisted  by  the  famiKarity  with  time  units  acquired 
in  rhythmic  p  ay.   I  mean  the  faculty  of  learning  theT^^ 

o  anyphysicalact-espedaUyofthosebwhiTmom^Jl 
plays  an  miportant  part.  momentum 

or  play  golf,  until  you  have  fonned  an  •  • 

you,  n,M  of  the  ttae  length  .nX^ceTStrS.™ 
of  wh,ch  the  special  skill  consists.  To  lean,  hZTTl 
ti.^  B  t.  toam  the  mi^d  «,d  muscles  „„t  ^^^11°  fom 

skdlfulvjohmst  to,^  his  stmke  in  it,  e«*Xh2^, 
The  good,  batsman  accents  his  swing  at  the  ball^ft  ^ 
eafaordmao-mcety  before  he  makes  it.  Hightlyto^^ 

It.  You  must  know  before  you  start  just  how  it  oi..l.t  Z 
feel,  the  rate  at  whid.  the  m«»„t„m'  ahould  alZSltf 
and  just  where  the  stress  of  it  ahouM  com.  ^u^^ 

rteLtsi-rervetitt^^r^^^ 
cau^qrid^;rri::Ze:::=:riS 

fon  pwsed  on  to  them.   But  the  accent  must" 

»rt    m  the  devdc^t  of  the  wielding  faculty  spoken 

from  a  tack  hammer  to  a  battleship,  you  mu^  have  « 
umate        of  its  wdght  and  balaL'  of  Tt^^" '^i.t 

fm,  «l  Af^,  „  that  y«,  can  foresee  with  accurwy  the 


1«8  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


swing  of  the  stroke  or  of  the  encounter  with  a  wave.  Even 
a  duld's  learning  to  wallc  consists  largely  in  acquiring  a 
similar  knowledge  of  his  1^. 

The  same  thing  is  true  of  the  handling  of  individuala  or 
social  groups.  There  is  a  psychological  swing  and  balance 
—  a  rhythm,  tempo,  or  wofo/— wrapped  up  in  every 
temperament,  a  natural  period  of  oscUlation  in  every  per- 
sonaKty,  just  as  in  every  physical  structure  that  reaUy  hoMs 
together.  If  you  push  according  to  its  law,  you  can  get 
sway  over  it.  If  you  strike  the  wrong  note  or  work  against 
the  rhythm,  you  will  not  get  far. 

There  is  furthermore  a  sense  of  climax,  or  rhythmic  syl- 
kjgism,  in  many  forms  of  skiD,  both  physical  and  psychologi- 
cal, from  snapping  a  whip  (with  me  it  was  a  towel  mutually 
applied  by  comrades  of  the  bath)  to  carry  ing  a  breastwork 
or  an  audience.   The  skating  game  of  snap  the  whip  is  a 
joyful  recognition  of  this  fact.   Climax  is  at  the  root  of 
any  enterprise  which  involves  a  supreme  moment  in  which 
all  the  accumulated  power  should  be  let  loose —  in  which, 
if  the  undertaking  is  of  a  social  nature,  the  ordinary  mhibi- 
tions  are  overcome  and  the  unconscious  resources  of  the 
participants  released.   Nobody  is  capable  of  social  leader- 
ship who  cannot  feel  in  his  bones  the  cumulative  rhythm  of 
the  breakmg  wave.   Hear  Anton/s  rough  sketch  of  his 
pditical  campaign : 

And  Cesar's  si»rit  rangmg  for  revenge, 

With  Ate  by  his  side  come  hot  from  Hell, 
Shall  in  these  confines  with  a  monarch's  voice 
Cry  "Havoc,"  and  let  slip  the  dogs  of  war. 

The  wave  reaches  its  height  at  "monarch's,"  breaks  at 
"Havoc,"  and  you  can  see  it  rush  as  it  lets  sUp  the  does  of 
war. 


RHYTHM  AND  LIFE  159 

Rhythmic  pky  contributes  in  several  ways  to  this  power 
eammg  the  accent  of  a  given  motion.  There  is  unS 
ediy  an  unrhythmic  way  of  feeling  time,  but  as  sooHswi 
Jl^irately  imagine  the  temporal  sequence  of  a  ^n  mo"^ 
ment  -«i  soon  as  you  see  time  with  features  in  it-Z 
are  at  least  gettmg  near  to  riiythm.  There  may  not  in  a 
given  physical  action,  be  rhythm  in  the  sense  of  a  i^do^ 
of  equal  units,  but  there  is  a  balance  of  one  ^riod^ 

and  the  acquiring  of  an  accurate  sense  of  this  balance  is  an 
act  implying  measurement.  The  practice  of  rhythm.  witS 

s  division  of  time  into  equal  units,  fumlsh^perhaps 
he  frame  and  calculus  by  which  we  unconsa^u^J  pfot 
the  different  curves  and  measure  the  vaiying  rates  Tlp^ 

ChJdren.  m  rhythmic  play,  do  not  merely  learT^e 
a«=ui»te  sequence  of  the  motions  they  go  through  but  Z 
character  of  each  motion  is  prescribed  by  the  ilb^^em! 
Phasis  of  the  tune  it  goes  to.   The  mu^c  tel^C 

Rhythmic  play  m  fact,  with  its  constant  association  of 
toe  umts  with  muscular  action,  famiUarizes  them  wi^ 
the  whole  sub^  of  the  reUtion  of  time  and  motirn.^d 
gets  them  used  to  Judging  temporal  distances,  jm  l  Ae 

u  PJay  IS  the  play  of  the  timing  faculty 

^  tTt:  ^'"^  ''""^  *  P^*^^^"-'  ^-hwl* 
^y'ltZ^  ^  »  P^-"  '^^en  you 

Consideration  of  the  social  importance  of  climax  brings 

service  to  mankind,  namely,  that  of 
SOCHI  fagK«,.  Rhythm  IS  the  great  get-together  agent  of 


160  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


the  world,  ,the  mightiest  ally  of  the  belonging  instinct.  It 
b  essential  even  to  physical  coSperation  of  the  closest  sort. 
I  found  this  out  when  learning  to  jump  a  horse.  I  landed, 
uniformly  and  with  precision,  just  behind  his  ears,  until  I 
learned  the  rhythm  of  the  motion  and  could  foresee  it  with 
some  accuracy  before  it  started.  You  cannot  get  a  big 
trunk  into  a  cart  or  a  dory  down  the  beach ;  you  cannot  go, 
in  anything,  beyond  what  one  man,  or  a  succession  of  men 
acting  severally,  can  accomplish,  ~  accept  as  you  induce 
the  Muses  to  act  with  you. 

^Vhen  the  act  of  cooperation  is  of  the  repeating  sort,  the 
importunce  of  rhythm  ia  yet  more  marked,  as  all  rowers 
know,  and  as  the  hundred  old  chantys  of  the  rope-hauling 
days  of  saU  navigation  testify.  Stroking  a  crew  is  much  like 
leading  an  orchestra.  The  Argonauts  required  Orpheus  to 
make  them  swing  together,  and  from  that  day  to  this  the 
turning  out  of  a  winning  crew  has  been  largely  a  musical 
achievement. 

And  the  psychological  combination  is  the  most  important 
part  of  the  effect.  Orpheus  makes  of  hb  crew  not  merely 
one  body  but  one  soul,  and  has  such  power  that  even  the 
beasts  and  the  trees  obey  him.  The  regiment  keeps  time 
not  only  with  its  feet  but  with  its  heart.  A  heart  is  born 
to  it  — a  soul  shared  by  its  individual  members  — as  it 
marches.  ^  hythm  is  the  social  alchemist,  who  can  fuse 
individual  minds  and  temperaments  into  one  substance 
in  obedience  to  hit  spell. 

A«  a  question  of  the  mechanics  of  the  process,  there  is 
nothing  that  produces  such  identity  of  thought  and  feeling, 
and  such  consciousness  of  it  on  the  part  of  each.  Wiien 
people  sing  or  march  or  dance  together,  each  knows  with 
accuracy,  as  in  the  ring  game,  what  all  the  rest  are  doing 
and  are  going  to  do  and  in  great  part  how  they  feel  about 


RHYTHM  AND  LIFE  lei 

it;  and  each  knows  tlmt  the  oth«  knows -and  so  on;  to 

the  depth  that  the  song  or  movement  goes  the  mutual  under- 

it  goes  deeper  as  the  rhythmic 
influence  contmues-a  ripple,  a  wave,  a  ground  swell, 
until  the  whole  emotional  being  of  each  member  of  the  com- 
pany swings  to  the  same  pulsation  like  a  tidal  wave 

Historically  the  service  of  rhythm  to  social  fusion  has 
been  very  great.  It  is  no  accident  that  dance  and  song  are 
the  invariable  accompaniment  of  the  ring  game.  It  was  so 
from  the  beginning  From  the  first  tribal  dance  down  to 
the  latest  pohtical  demonstration,  wherever  men  have 
sought  to  fuse  their  individuaKties  into  a  common  will  and 
consciousness,  they  have  instinctively  turned  to  rhythm  as 
the  power  that  could  perform  the  miracle. 

The  war  dance  and  the  war  song  have  served  for  hundreds 
of  centunes  to  break  down  the  cold  barriers  of  individualism 
and  weld  young  men  mto  those  victorious  bands  that 
insured  the  physical  survival  of  the  race  and  have  established 
the  ascendency  of  successive  peoples.  The  religious  dance, 
culmmating  m  the  religious  orgy,  was  a  very  early  social 
funcbon  and  has  lasted  to  our  day.  Ancient  religion  was 
triba ,  always  a  community  affair.  And  it  was  with  the  aid 
of  religious  ceremonies,  with  their  songs  and  dances,  that 
the  persona  of  the  family  was  enlarged  to  include  the  village. 

I^.r^;.*"'*  '^e^s^'-e  through 

rnythm  that  pohtical  communities  were  formed.  In  reading 
accounts  of  the  ways  of  savages  one  feels  indeed  that  ahnost 
the  whole  of  primitive  social  life  was  set  to  rhythm. 

And  It  IS  partly  so  to^ay.  Every  ccdlege  has  its  song  of 
yelJ  -  the  two  species  of  vociferation  are  not  always  dis- 
tinguishable.  Eveiy  successful  nation,  church,  fraternity, 
has  Its  anthem  or  its  rhythmic  ritual.  Almost  every-  great 
social  movement  has  been  set  to  music,  from  the  musik6 


1«8  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

«f  the  Greeks  to  modem  rag-time.  and  from  Luther's  hymn 

Z    T^^^'  MarseiUaise  stands 

for    Tho  stoiy  of  rhythm  has  ahnost  been  the  story  of 
avUization     It  has  even  be^n  suggested-by 
f^^  Tu     P'*«"°»«-th«t  ti^ere  is  significance  iTSe 
orZ*Raw'  peoples  of  the  ^gean. 

of  Ae  Baltic  of  the  German  Ocean,  with  their  training  in 
rhy^mic  cooperation,  have  been  the  great  democratic 
nations  of  the  wr  1. 

Rhythm  pre^  to  people  in  warm  and  vivid  feeUng 
their  common  ..ul.  A  march  or  chorus  is  a  real  though 
transient  commonwealth.   It  gives  for  the  moment  a  foi^ 

!^hr1  ""^f  ^  '^^  be -illumines  the  intention, 
establishes  the  color,  gives  immeH-ate  experience  of  the  en- 
largement  of  personality  to  inci      a  social  whole. 

Khythm  has  the  power  of  kindling  the  social  imagination 
It  aiables  people  to  project  forward  a  given  purpose  with 
that  wannth  and  reahty  that  make  it  feasible.   It  arouses 
in  preeminent  degree  that  sense  of  imminence  -  that  actual 
prince  of  an  impending  act  here  in  the  passing  moment  - 
toat  renders  its  execution  possible  and  at  last  inevitaM« 
llhythm  IS  the  vivid  form  of  purpose -or  rather  it 
to  purpose  warmth  and  momentum  even  before  it  ' 
form.  It  gives  to  pale  intention,  provisionaUy.  the  mhty 
of  accomplished  fact.   It  borrows  of  the  future,  presente 
us  with  a  finished  act  at  the  begimung  to  defray  the  sacrifices 
of  Its  own  accomplishment. 

The  adoption  of  song  and  rhythmic  motion  in  the  ring 
game  diows  the  ancient  partners,  rhythm  and  the  team  sense, 
at  tHeir  time-honored  and  mtnnentous  work.  These  two 
that  have  built  up  all  the  tribes  and  nations  of  the  worid. 

pu«ue  their  joint  vocation  in  our  children's  games. 
We  speak  of  pohtical  rings  and  social  circles;  the  ring  game 


RHYTHM  AND  LIFE  les 

is  the  second  circle  thiougii  which  the  dtko,,  or  belonging 
instinct  extends,  as  the  family  circle  is  the  fint    It  fa  5 
vital  interest  to  the  State  that  its  children  be  given  fnU 
opportunity  to  form  these  infant  commonwealths  Mid  to 
«mg  and  dance  themselves  into  the  spirit  of  them. 

As  to  the  particular  story  or  dnuna  to  be  enacted  in  the 

ring  ganaes.  the  children  themselves  are  not  particuhr  so 
long  as  they  have  the  two  essentials,  the  circle  and  the  dance 

oecupataon,  even  of  medieval  mythology,  which  the  tradi- 
tional nng  games  represent,  aie  survivab  of  grown-up  games 
and  dances.  There  is  opportunity  here  -  which  pLbd 
has  so  weU  made  use  of  - 1.  select  those  stories  which  we 
think  most  worth  telling  an  '  to  eliminate  those  th«t  «e 
stupid  or  convey  an  undesirab.<j  suggestion. 

The  Greeks  founded  their  education  on  ihythm  in  its 
various  forms  -  musiki  as  they  called  it.  The  Italians  of 
the  Renaissance  were  rhymers,  decorators,  students  of  the 
Greek  masters  and  their  Latin  imitators.  Milton  gives  a 
high  place  to  music  and  poetiy  in  education.  beUeving  that 
the  pupils  in  his  model  school,  at  the  time  of  rest  Lfore 
meat,  may  both  with  profit  and  delight  be  taken  ud  m 
recreating  and  composing  their  fcravail'd  spirits  with  the 
solemn  and  divine  harmonies  of  music  heard  or  learnt 

decant,  in  ofty  fugue,  or  the  whole  symphony  with  artful 
and  un^xnaginable  touches  adorn  «id  gn«»  the  weD^ied 
chords  of  some  choice  composer;  sometimes  the  lute.^ 
^ftorgan-stop.  waiting  oh  elegant  voices  eith^  to  religious, 
maternd.  or  avU  ditties;  which,  if  wise  men,  ...d  prophets 
be  not  ertiemely  out.  have  a  great  power  over  dispositions 


164  PLAY  jjg  EDUCATION 

^J^^A  *?.  'Win  nirtic 

iMndwess  nnd  distonper'd  pudons." 

It  was  in  the  poems  of  Schiller  ud  the  qnnphoniei  of 

fa^e^land  hved  m  these  before  her  political  institutions  wer^ 
t  K!;irr^ statesmanship  merely  ratified 

s^nUh  "l"^"^^**""*-  Andthepowerthatbuiltb 
stall  then,  to  sustain  its  work.  A  friend  of  mine  only  yester- 
day  heard  a  German  say.  irfter  listening  to  one  of  thd^ 
CIVIC  choruses.  "Germany  will  never  be  conquers!  while 
Germans  sing  like  that." 

T^f^T^rTu  ^  '^PP^*"  unpractical. 

The  demand  of  busmess  men  is  often  for  boys  who  can  speU 
and  add  and  have  no  nonsense  in  them :  the  less  educatira 
b^ond  that    f  a  machine,  and  the  less  fool  poetry 
a^imtaon  the  machine  has  in  it,  to  get  into  its  bearings 
and  interfere  with  its  smooth  action,  the  better.   What  is 
the  use  of  rhythm  in  business  affai«i?  People  who  feel 
and  talk  m  th.s  way  always  have,  for  some  reason,  the  curious 
obsession  that  they  are  very  practical.   But  are  they  really 
^  Were  the  Greeks,  or  the  Italians  of  the  Renaissani 
less  successful  than  others  in  living  a  life  that  posterity 
value  and  bequeathing  permanent  acquisitions  to  man- 
fand?  Merely  as  a  matter  of  business,  are  the  Germans 
fallmg  so  rapidly  behind  in  neutral  markets  as  to  indicate 
some  fatal  flaw  in  their  procedure?   Are  they  not,  on  the 
contrary,  universally  recognized  as  the  most  successful 
buaness  nation  of  the  present  day  ?  And  yet  the  first  and 
last  word  of  German  industrial  education  is  patriotic  ideal- 
ism ;  and  music  is  deep  in  the  waip  and  woof  of  it.  A  soul. 
It  would  appear,  is  a  not  unimportant  part  in  the  human 
mechanism,  even  in  business  affairs. 
And  if  a  soul  were,  as  is  sometimes  thought,  an  encum- 


RHYTHM  AND  UFB 


185 

bmnce  in  business,  and  if  it  couJd  be  dispensed  with  lilce  tlie 
ton«.ls  or  tlje  .pp^dix.  would  h  even  then  be  wi^to  let  i 

•n  life?   The  efficient  man,  as  we  all  know  and  ttOy  nam. 

may  be  led  to  say  - he  who  is  efficient  in  saving  his  own 
hfe  who  «j„  effectively  translate  his  soul  into  artion.  It 

hetT  H  f  """"t """^  'eave  your 

heart  behind :  .n  that  case  you  may  as  weB  t««  b«k 

start  again.  What  counts  is  not  how  far  you  travel  bS 
how  fer  you  cany  your  ideal.  The  rest  is  meJlly  thT^ui^ 
m^eeage-HHrtion  perhaps  very  hot  and  strenuous.  Z 
without  progr^  And  rhythm  is  the  method  of  the  soul's 
pijession  the  natural  manner -not  indeed  the  rJ^^ 
motive,  but  the  gait  and  habit -of  the  humw  wrfriT^ 

the  chdd  the  exem*  of  his  rhythmic  instinct  is  to  send  h^ 
hobbled  out  to  run  his  laoe. 


BOOK  IV.  THE  BIG  INJUN  AGE 


CHAPTER  XXn 


THB  HUNQBS  fOB  BBAUTT 

Tarn  comes  a  day,  when  your  boy  is  about  six  years 
oW,  when  he  suddenly  loses  mterest  in  Jramatic  play.  He 
doesn't  want  to  be  »  mother  bird.  He  won't  hop  Kke  a 
toad.   The  stick  ceases  to  be  a  gun;  walking  in  a  pecuKw 
way  no  longer  makes  him  a  soldier,  and  there  is  not  a  single 
pujte  in  the  house.   He  kicks  over  his  little  sisters'  houses, 
Mid  to  an  suggestions  that  he  take  part  in  their  accustomed 
play  he  returns  scornful  and  unconciliator>'  response.  He 
says  aU  these  things  are  sUly.  Si%,  indeed,  is  now  his 
favorite  word;  it  is  almost  the  earmark  of  this  period: 
when  he  begins  saying  things  are  silly  you  may  know  that 
It  IS  the  begmning  of  the  end. 

It  is  the  same  way  with  his  sister  when  she  reaches  the 
same  advanced  and  sophisticated  age.  The  ship  we  buih 
upon  the  stairs  has  dissolved  into  its  component  parts;  her 
doU  IS  stuffed  with  sawdust,  and  all  the  illusions  of  her 
youth  have  disappeared.  The  sexes  indeed  are  much  alike 
throughout  the  period  that  now  begins. -what  I  have 
ventured  to  caU  the  Big  Injun  age. 

Thus  the  first  symptom  of  the  new  age  is  disinuaon. 
Imagination  is  no  longer  the  same  thing  as  reality.  The 
chUd  cannot  be  a  lion  or  a  fuU-rigged  ship  at  will;  a  stick 
wUl  not  bectane  a  horse  because  he  wants  it  to;  the  donning 

100 


THE  BDMOER  FOR  REALirV  IW 

Joyl,«d.p«jdftomth.»  thing,.   Iixferf  ™ 
.|P«.  U-  A.  ddid  now  .how.  .  .p«ui  .v^ 

Not  thrt  tt«e  wiU  be  no  rel.p«.    A  ch!' -mevet 
«u^h.™yb,dH,„a»t««.rthin,inbi..,.  .  ZZ 
mood.,  wJI  cortinu.  to  «,u™  a  htorvd.  ; 
mp«»n.t.on  -  .von  to  playing  «  or  hou«_«Iifc 

"»««o.wai«lonf  b.hi.m.rt..riou,p„„ui,. 

.H  enoh«,tod  g«,und  of  A.  injtion  ^ 

A  second  chai^cteristic  of     i  sm  ia  Ite  .««irft;«„ 
doe.  «,e  child  t„.  .gain.  Xw^S'.^ 

^  «°       it.  ploce^ 

»^  •*  bo^  wiU  tt.,^  about  for  hour,  on  their  favorite 
conwj  d*.,  ,,  -Wkrt,rf,4,,..,^  throwing  »„wC 
™^weU-wom  .„d  much  vri«d  Jd».  «  tha'p^^T 

OccM.on.lly  one  will  ri,y  ,  ^on. .t  .  birf  JmM^ 
r tj^  d,.w  .  channel  with  hi.  toe  toK^t 
TO,  Iran  on.  wheel  tn^k  to  another.  Once  in  .  wUk 

My  with  a  .peci.,  gjTC^  ^SXTT 


1«8  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

nothing  at  least  at  aU  worthy  of  the  physical  and  monl 
powere  of  the  assembly,  or  satisfying  to  their  restless  desire 
to^domg  something  if  they  could  only  find  out  what  it  was 
What  games  they  do  play  if  left  whoUy  to  themselves  are 
apt  to  be  desultory  and  spasmodic,  and  of  a  not  especially 
exalted  type.   The  present  head  of  a  successful  boarding 
school,  who  for  some  years  had  charge  of  the  play  time  of 
boys  of  the  Big  Injun  age,  once  told  me  that  the  only  thing 
they  would  keep  on  doing  if  left  to  themselves  was  to  set 
on  one  of  their  number  and  tease  him.  That  was  the  highest 
form  of  social  institution  they  seemed  able  to  support. 
Ihis  IS  the  anarchistic  age,  the  age  of  the  individual,  in  which 
the  critical  faculty  is  so  much  stronger  than  the  power  of 
soml  organization  as  to  ahnost  always  get  the  better  of  it. 

You  think  it  was  not  so  when  you  were  a  child,  —  in  those 
days  when  there  were  real  snowstorms  and  the  fish  always 
bit  and  there  wa«  something  heroic  going  on  every  afternoon. 
And  you  think  perhaps  that  it  is  not  usuaUy  so  with  the 
a>untry  child.    Perhaps  it  was  not  so  in  your  case,  especially 
If  there  were  bigger  boys  to  set  the  pace,  or  a  strong  and 
unbroken  play  tradition  to  grow.up  into.  But  if  you  will 
follow  any  set  of  children  of  this  age  about  and  note  down 
what  they  are  really  doing,  Wednesdays  and  Fridays  and 
aU,  whether  in  the  city  or  the  country  -  even  if  you  could 
have  moving  picture  records  of  what  you  did  yourself  — 
you  would  find,  I  thmk,  that  there  is,  and  was,  less  going  on 
than  you  unagine.  The  big  games  and  big  snowstorms  of 
forty  years  ago,  like  the  lamp  posts  down  the  street,  are 
near  together;  but  in  the  present,  wherever  located,  they 
are,  and  always  have  been,  comparatively  sparse. 

It  is  not  that  the  child  of  this  age  is  lazy  or  in  the  least 
contented  with  doing  nothing.  He  does  not  desire  to  be 
Idle.  On  the  contrary,  he  is  the  most  restless  creature  in 


THE  HUNGER  FOR  REALITY  169 

t^S'^^'^-  ^'"b       is  more 

bored  or  dMcontented  m  his  inactivity.   Nobody  could  be 
more  d^irous  of  finding  the  thing,  whatever  i^  may  1^ 
that  he  truly  wants  to  do.   The  child  of  the  Big  Injun  age 
has  been  well  likened  to  an  engine  with  the  steai  up  B^t 
^s^so  an  engine  without  a  track,  almost  it  sometimes 

!T        .  ^ble,  unassisted,  to 

find  occupation  commensurate  with  his  desires. 

Wl!!?'^  t^l  T'". "^"^  P'^y  symptoms? 
What  s  behind  the  disillusionment  and  the  sterility  of  the 
Big  Injun  age?  Is  the  phenomenon  all  negative?^  Is  the 
chjld  going  to  die?  Has  the  vital  impulse  spent  itself  and 

No  hTs  nof*  f ^^^^^        '^^^^  ~? 
thl  V     •  testify 
that  there  is  plenty  of  life  there  -  as  much  indeed  as  th^ 
are  at  times  well  able  to  handle.   Whatever  else  the  JmS^ 
^may  mean  they  at  least  do  not  signify  a  les^S 
«ergy.   There  «  plenty  going  on  inside  the  child  at  this 
tage  o  his  existence,  and  he  often  succeeds  in  prc^uctg 
external  symptoms  which,  whatever  may  be  the^S 
deficiencies  at  least  lack  nothing  in  actuality.   The  pe2^ 
eace  and  high  potential  of  the  vital  energy  in  him  is 
by  his  supreme  and  varied  troublesomeness. 

coming  of  the  Big  Injun  age.  and  the  one  that  gives  the  kev 
toallthei^st.  Why  is  it  that  when  the  child  aTlSs  p^riS 
^rheTJT/'i^'  ^o.you  almosK 

lor  precisely  the  most  inconvenient  form  of  occuoa- 
open  to  bun,  c^M^  „^ 

play  with  the  hmd  fcg,  of  d„         ^  ^ 


170  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


doesn't  know  how,  find  out  whether  it  is  loaded?  Why,  in 
short,  are  the  words  mischief  and  small  boy  (or  small  giri 
either,  for  that  matter)  so  closely  and  proverbially  synony- 
mous? The  question  is  one  that  has  troubled  the  minds 
of  many  parents  since  Cain  first  demonstrated  the  activities 
of  the  Big  Injun  age,  in  connection  with  which  his  spirit  is 
still  so  often  raised.  Some  people  have  supposed  that  the 
enemy  of  mankind  has  peculiar  access  to  the  child  at  this 
stage  of  his  development;  and  a  good  argument  could  un- 
doubtedly be  made  in  favor  of  the  supposition.  PersonaUy, 
however,  I  believe  that  the  explanation  is  something  diflFei^ 
ent.  I  do  not  think  the  truth  lies  in  the  theory  of  pui« 
cussedness  nor  in  any  negative  supposition. 

What  is  at  the  bottom  of  the  mischief  of  the  Big  Injun 
age,  what  has  turned  the  child  against  dramatic  play  and 
left  him  for  the  time  with  no  dear  suggestion  of  what  he  is 
to  do— the  cause  of  all  the  surface  indications—is  a  positive 
and  not  a  negative  phenomenon ;  not  a  leaving  off  but  a 
beginning.   And  it  is  the  love  of  mischief  that  gives  the 
dearest  indication  of  its  nature.  It  is  precisely  in  this  most 
annoying  of  aU  the  symptoms  he  presents  that  we  find  the 
great  and  suflScient  cause  for  hop^ness  concerning  the  Big 
Injun,  the  key  to  his  vast  possibilities  of  growth.   What  has 
happened  to  him  has  been  the  coming  into  his  life  of  a  new 
desire— the  overmastering  desire  for  the  real.  The  thing  that 
has  driven  out  make-believe  is  the  passion  for  that  which 
sfaaU  not  be  make-bdieve,  the  longing  for  objective  truth,  the 
hunger  for  hard  pan.    It  is  this  insistent  desire  that  is  at 
the  bottom  of  his  love  of  mischief :  the  reason  he  has  to  do 
the  most  noisy,  the  most  startling,  the  most  inconvenient, 
thing  is  that  it  is  also  the  most  real. 

The  child  when  the  new  spirit  b  upon  him  will  not  be 
contented  with  pretending  things:  like  Orlando  he  can  no 


THE  HUNGER  FOR  REALITY  171 

1*  #  1.1*  ^ 

wants  to  come  up  againat  real 

wants  to  encounter 
real  experience;  and  the  more  reality  it  has  the  better. 
He  loves  the  wetness  of  water  even  if  he  must  fall  into  it 
to  make  sure:  the  heat  of  fire,  though  it  should  bum  his 
fingers  or  supply  one  more  perforation  in  his  nethw  gai- 
ments.   Trees  are  good  to  climb,  stones  to  throw,  grass  to 
chew,  or  make  a  shrieking  noise  with.   Almost  everything 
IS  an  object  for  dose  physical  contact  of  some  sort  The 
very  ground  is  good  to  roll  on  and  rub  your  nose  m.  Better 
rub  your  head  on  a  brick,  as  a  concrete  study  of  architecture 
than  lack  all  bodily  contact  with  the  real. 

The  child  at  this  age  is  out  for  blood,  out  for  big  game 
desuwus  to  exploit  the  krgest  and  concretest  thmg  in  sight' 
to  get  up  next  to  it  or  make  it  happen.  He  loves  a  big 
no.se,  a  big  event,  -  especially  to  be  the  cause  of  such. 
The  reason  the  things  he  finds  to  do  are  precisely  the  most 
trouWesome  ones  within  his  reach  is  because  these  possess 
in  pre§mment  degree  the  desired  quality  of  realism.  An 
alleviation  to  the  cold  Wue  morning  bath,  even  when  you 
had  to  break  the  ice  in  the  paU  to  make  it  pour,  was  in  the 
thunderous  possibUities  of  the  old-fashioned  hat  tub.  Life, 
truth,  reality,  are  the  objects  of  passionate  desire  during 
the  Big  Injun  age,  and  expkin  its  leading  characteristics 


CHAFTER  XXm 


THE  SKEPTIC 


The  Big  Injun  age  is  on  its  intellectual  side,  as  Froebd  has 
told  us,  the  age  of  exploration,  when  the  child  turns  over 
every  stone  to  see  what  is  under  it,  climbs  a  tree  to  discover 
the  strange  countries  lying  beyond  the  garden  fence,  and 
when  he  goes  to  walk  returns  with  mice  and  spiders  and  other 
weird  and  distressful  spechnens  in  his  pockets.   Boys  like 
to  take  a  bee  line  across  country,  not  because  they  reaBy 
think  it  is  shorter,  but  because  of  the  swamps  and  fences, 
gardens  and  chicken  yards,  "mosses,  crossings,  slaps,  and 
staes,"  and  other  perils  and  adventures  it  is  likely  to  take 
them  into.   Every  one  knows  that  the  many^unseled 
Odysseus  did  not  really  want  to  get  home  too  easily;  and 
the  child  is  now  at  the  Odysseus  age. 

"I  like  boys,  the  masters  of  the  playground  and  of  the 
street,  —  boys,  who  have  the  same  liberal  ticket  of  admission 
to  aU  shops,  factories,  armories,  town  meetings,  caucuses, 
mobs,  target-shootings,  as  flies  have;  quite  unsuspected, 
coming  in  as  naturally  as  the  janitor,  —  known  to  have  no 
money  in  their  pockets,  and  themselves  not  suspecting  the 
value  of  this  poverty;  putting  nobody  on  his  guard,  but 
seemg  the  inside  of  the  show,— hearing  all  the  asides.  There 
are  n  3ecrets  from  them,  they  know  everything  that  befalls 
m  the  fire-company,  the  merits  of  every  engine  and  of  every 
man  at  the  brakes,  how  to  work  it,  and  are  swift  to  try  then* 
hand  at  every  part;  so  too  the  merits  of  every  locomotive 
on  the  rails,  and  will  coax  the  engineer  to  let  them  ride  with 

173 


THE  SKEPTIC  173 

hm  and  pull  the  handles  when  it  goes  to  the  enginehouse. 
:ni^  are  there  only  for  fun,  and  not  knowing  that  they  are 
at  school,  in  the  court-house,  or  the  cattie-show,  quite  as 
much  and  more  than  tl  ey  were,  an  hour  ago,  in  the  arithmetic 

"They  know  truth  from  counterfeit  as  quick  as  the  chemist 
does.   They  detect  weakness  in  your  eye  and  behavior  a 
week  before  you  open  your  mouth,  and  have  given  you  the 
benefit  of  theu-  opinion  q  Jck  as  a  wink.   They  make  no 
mistakes,  have  no  pedantry,  but  entire  belief  on  experience. 
Their  elections  at  baseball  or  cricket  are  .u.ded  on  merit, 
and  are  right.   They  don't  pass  for  swimmers  untU  they 
can  smm  nor  for  stroke^w  untU  they  can  row:  and  I 
desire  to  be  saved  from  their  contempt.   If  I  can  pass  with 
tnem,  l  can  manage  well  enough  with  their  fathers."  Emer- 
son  IS  stiU  not  only  our  greatest  prophet  but  our  best  portrait 
pamter.  f"»  •*•»!. 

This  is  the  age  for  coUections  -of  bones,  bugs,  butterflies, 
and  bu-ds  eggs;  of  shells  and  stones  and  postage  stamps: 
of  corns  and  caterpUlars,  and  of  the  pmiclies  that  the  differ- 
ent  conductors  make  in  your  season  ticket;  the  age  of 
hoardmg  -  a  bone  ring  and  a  broken  knife,  a  piece  of  agate 
and  the  bottom  of  a  retired  inkstand,  an  invalided  castor 
and  a  static  watrh,  a  pe^'s  feather  and  a  skunk's  taU 
(unperfectly  denatured  though  it  be),  with 

Eye  of  newt  and  toe  of  frog, 
Wool  of  bat  and  tongtu  of  dog. 

and  many  other  objects  of  recognized  though  myscerious 
Mark  Twam  records,  of  a  dead  rat  with  a  string  to  swing  it 
It  is  the  age  of  thmgs,  when  ahnost  any  object  i^pears 


174  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

worthy  of  investigation,  when  the  chUd's  mteUect,  like  his 
physical  appetite,  seems  both  ommvorous  and  unlimited 
when 

Hie  wocM  is  M  fiiU  ol  •  number  of  thinsi 
I'm  sure  we  should  all  be  as  happy  u  Idngt. 

Educators  have,  it  is  true,  with  wonderful  perseverance  and 
ingenuity,  searched  out  or  invented  classes  of  facts  — such 
as  dates  when  nothing  interesting  happened,  hsts  of  kings 
and  capitals,  and  the  mummy  of,  say,  the  Third  Punic 
War,  8th  Period -that  even  a  child  of  this  age  cannot 
assunUate;  and  have  thus  both  taught  us  something  as  to 
what  does  not  contribute  to  his  growth  and  shown  that  there 
B  after  aU  a  selective  principle  at  w..k  in  him.  But  this 
feat  of  the  schoohnaster  is  a  remarkable  one ;  there  is  hardly 
anything  the  child  hears  or  encounters  outsule  of  school  that 
does  not  interest  hun. 

This  is  especially  the  age  of  coming  close  to  nature,  not 
by  way  of  book  knowledge  or  platonic  appreciation,  not 
through  lists  of  words  with  no  experience  behmd  them 
but  by  sight  and  feeling,  taste  and  smeU,  by  entrance  into' 
the  mtunate  society  of  all  kinds  of  facts,  establishing  com- 
radeship with  birds  and  beasts  and  waves  and  winds  and  fire 
and  electricity.    It  is  the  age  of  making  the  personal  ac- 
quamtance,  through  peace  or  war,  of  the  squirrel,  the  chick- 
adee, and  the  neighbor's  dog.  The  child  of  this  age  ought 
to  be  in  the  country.   There  is  his  world,  the  fulfiMment 
of  his  prophetic  curiosity,  the  assemblage  of  those  objects 
and  opportunities  to  which  his  instinctive  interests  relate. 
The  summer  tide  of  childhood  should  set  away  from  cities 
to  woods  and  farms  and  summer  camps.   There  should  be 
great  extension  of  the  country  week,  of  expeditions  to  the 
beach  and  farm.  And  play  provision  should  largely  take 


THE  SKEPTIC  175 

these  fonns.  A  city  playground  can  successfully  carry 
on  a  summi^  camp  of  its  own  from  the  middle  of  July  to 
the  end  of  August  when,  among  children  over  ten  years 
old  especially,  activity  on  the  playground  is  apt  to  iT 
guish.  And,  to  anticipate,  playgrounds  ought,  for  the  older 
boys  and  gu-ls.  u>  have  voyages  of  discovery  and  ex^ 
ration  and  excursions  preferably  to  pkces  where  they  am 

And  if  the  child  cannot  be  brought  to  the  country,  the 
country  should  be  brought  to  him.   Smmner  pkyZundJ 
small  children  should  be  so  far  as  possible  i^rt 
the  gnas  imd  under  the  .hade  of  trees.   It  wa.  formerly 

demonstrated  that,  taken  in  moderate  doses,  they  do  no^ 

dvat?'  concerned  i^ 

:!^T"-         ^  "^'^  that  play- 

grounds specifically  so  caUed  should  be  hideous  and  devoid 
of  j:rowmg  tbmgs.  tdce  very  Httle  room  and  are 

useful  for  goals  and  bases.  We  must  thint  of  the  future  a 
httJe  and  plant  elm  trees  in  all  our  children's  comers;  and 
m  the  meantmie  there  can  be  shrubs.  ChUdren's  gardemi 
are  not  only  valuable  m  themselves,  as  we  shall  see  Uter, 
but  help  gr«itly  to  make  the  playgromid  habitable. 

This  IS  the  age  of  dissection,  in^-estigation,  first  hand 
experunent,  for  puzzles  and  conundrums  whether  presented 
by  nature  or  by  man;  the  time  to  see  what  the  doU's  in- 

^fr^      f'  ^  ^'l"^^'^  i"  the  bna  lamb, 

to  find  what  mdces  the  wheels  go  romid.  It  is  the  time  to 
explore  the  gustatoiy  properties  of  sorrel,  of  beecJi,  spruce, 
or  Imden  buds ;  of  seaweeds  and  gn«i  pulled  out  of  its  stem, 
ot  ants,  acorns,  and  various  nuts;  the  tune  of  unlimited 
gorges  at  the  currant  bed  or  in  the  blueberry  swamp,  to 


176  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

say  nothing  of  that  disastrous  day  in  which  the  raspbeny 
was  loved  not  wisely  but  too  well,  or  of  disappointing  ex- 
penences  with  soap,  horse  chestnuts,  and  other  objects 
pwsentmg  a  fair  outside.  The  small  chUd  is  a  convinced 
duciple  of  the  laboratory  method,  testing  things  by  fire 
and  water  and  touch  and  taste  and  by  getting  up  and  jounc- 
ing on  them.  His  mind  is  clearer  and  more  empty  than  at 
any  previous  or  succeeding  age.  He  is  the  great  skeptic, 
and  therefore  the  great  learner,  of  all  time. 

Now  is  the  time  for  kites  and  bonfires,  fire  engines  .nd 
water  wheels;  for  baking  clay,  pouring  lead,  and  seeing 
how  rubber  really  smells  when  it  is  melted;  for  hunting 
and  fishing  and  bird's-nesting.  It  is  the  tune  to  smoke  out 
the  reaUy  interesting  fact -see  what  you  can  do  with 
thmgs,  or  what  they  can  be  made  to  do,  that  is  worth  while 
-to  get  out  of  each  its  full  reaction,  tiie  biggest  event, 
crash,  shriek,  catastrophe,  it  has  to  give. 

The  same  investigating  tendency  exists  in  many  cf  tiie 
higher  anunals.   I  have  whistled  back  a  deer  who  had  come 
to  feel  that  tilings  were  getting  too  personal  and  had  re- 
treated into  tiie  woods  from  the  solitary  lake  shore  where 
we  had  been  conversmg.   It  is  common  to  attiwrt  caribou 
by  setting  up  a  red  flag  on  the  ice.   A  healthy-minded 
chipmunk  wiU  come  to  his  front  door  to  investigate  any 
unusual  noise.   Thus  science  for  its  own  sake  -  whichis 
the  dress  suit  name  for  curiosity  -  b  pursued  by  all  of  tiie 
broad-minded  species.  Especially  is  it  cultivated  among 
our  near  relations -so  much  so  as  to  be  accepted  as  a 
family  trait.   And  the  instinctive  methods,  namely  im- 
personation and  experiment,  are  the  same  in  our  humble 
relatives  as  in  ourselves,  and  have  indeed  received  their 
popuhir  designation  from  tiiis  circumstance.  The  fact 
tiiat,  on  our  part,  we  first  ape  and  tiien  monkey  may  be 


THE  SKEPTIC 


177 


noted  as  showing  the  long  descent  and  inevitable  natun  of 
our  procedure. 

ChUdren  should  have  a  vast  variety  of  materials  not 

merely  to  use  in  definite  and  foreseen  ways,  but  to  try 
experiments  on.   The  passing  of  the  woodshed  and  the 
old  garret  have  been  a  loss  to  education,  not  compensated 
by  anything  that  the  sloyd  room,  the  school  laboratory,  or 
the  playground  have  yet  provided,  A  truly  educational 
environment  contains  not  only  sand  and  boards  and  blocks 
but  old  boxes  and  broken  furniture,  odds  and  ends  of  wood, 
nails,  screws,  tacks,  staples,  straw,  tin,  lead  and  iron,  glue,' 
pamt,  clay,  sandpaper,  things  to  cook  with  and  means  to 
explore  the  infinite  variety  of  smeUs.»  The  world  has  many 
faces;  every  substance  has  a  trick  and  a  language  of  its 
own,  and  the  child  is  entitled  to  the  whole  vocabulary. 

It  is  not  merely  aptness  in  dealing  with  material  things 
that  is  at  stake;  the  chUd's  whole  future  effectiveness 
depends  in  many  ways  upon  that  full  comradeship  with 
nature's  world  that  comes  from  having  grown  up  with  nature 
as  a  playfellow.    I  have  known  a  man  to  ranain  a  square- 
toes  all  his  life,  partly  as  I  believe  from  having  dealt  too 
exclusively  in  boyhood  with  things  that  could  be  handled 
neatly  and  with  exactitude.  He  would  be  a  better  all-round 
man  to^lay  if  he  had  had  more  of  a  roUic  with  winds  and 
w  ives  and  hay-cocks  and  dams  made  of  slosh  or  gooey  sods. 
Another  man,  perhaps,  never  built  fires  or  took  care  of 
plants,  and  is  oblivious  to  the  growmg  power  or  contagious 
affinities  in  tilings.  Anotiier,  who  was  brought  up  with 
boats  and  horses,  is  aU  intuition,  but  cannot  build  a  good 
simple  stupid  pUe  of  bricks.  A  boy  should  be  at  give  and 
take  with  aU  sorts  of  material  and  witii  Uving  things  for  the 
lesson  in  the  mfinitely  varied  language  that  nature  apeaka. 
*  Stanley  Hail  has  long  tMq^t  tUt  doetiiiM. 


178  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

Playing  with  fire  is  especially  importwit  The  nurturiiii 
of  the  baby  flame,  the  coaxing  of  the  embers  bwsktol^ 
th^eedmg  of^e  growing  blaze  according  to  it,  power  to' 
•»taiUte--the  whole  piooeas  of  unloosing  the  fire  demon 
controIKng  him  h«  «l«c.tioiJX  iJmo^^  t^Z 
portion  to  Its  attraction. 
TW  fc,  ,u„  in  touching  off  any  fo^  ^ 

««7  """PPcn  a,  you        p,.„„^,  X 

ttvont.  game  I  knew  «.  Ktting  many  blocks  on  end  in  a 

at  last  the  final  block  upset  the  balance  ol  .  tower  with  a 
Wy  ,unk  of  soapstone  at  its  l«d.  wko..  M  fJS^ 
joyfully  foreseen  catastrophe. 
TO.  i,  the  age  of  hospitality  to  mechanical  hws,  of  joy. 

^l'^""^;"  *^  P-lfey  .nd  inclined  p£ 

of  feehng  the  b,te  and  cogency  of  fever,,  of  sympathy  with 
tte  k.te  and  saU  and  windmill  and  with  th^  J^ZZ 

The  duW  hkes  to  find  how  the  camphor  trunk,  andT^ 
the  b«  bureau,  c«i  h.  m«l.  to  dance  at  the  persu.sion7a 
couple  of  blocks  and  a  bit  of  j«.t  with  hi.  man  Ti^n  on 
pother  end.  He  wiU  be  fev^wwi...  M  ^IZ^l 

f^fromrSel'^  method  <.  .pp^n^ 

•wn  almort  to  recogmn  it.  wrvice  »  one  of  the  great 
emancpatorsofmanand.   To  reB  .  hoop,  a  bdl,  a  m 

a  cart,  or  even  to  watch  the  coachman  spm  tiL,  ^ 

reUmg  down  a  hJI,  even  though  it  finally  gets  away  fL  Z 

^rf,  toth.  mmmient  P«il  <rf  traffic  when  it  g«ns  the 
otreet,  re|«w,t.  «,  «ae  of  adrfhmtioB  to  bo  wmembered 


TBB  SKEPTIC  179 

*7  J^*?  *  boat, 

nding  a  bkgrde,  I.  b  the  oom»d«Uiip  with  natural  forces, 
niere  seems  besides,  to  be  almoit « ipeeiia  inrtbet  for  the 
use  of  vehicles,  as  shown  in  the  love  of  iledi,  boats*  toy 
carts,  carriages,  buckboards,  steam  engines,  and  automobiles. 

To  watch  the  operation  of  a  great  machine  gives  every  one 
a  sense  of  satisfaction.  It  seems  to  fulfill  our  own  wUl  and 
bnng  us  mto  codperatbn  with  the  universe.  It  satisfies 
the  eternal  element  in  our  desire,  as  iUustrated  by  Kipling 
m  MacAndrews'  hymn.  The  Big  Injun  age  is  the  time  to 
acquire  an  intimate  sense  of  how  the  world  foraes  OMimte 
and  how  they  feel  about  it. 

Boats  espedaUy  seem  afanost  a  part  of  the  growing  chUd. 
We  are  all  of  us  a  Uttle  web^ooted;  our  weaning  from 
Mother  Ocean  has  been  not  quite  complete.   As  the  child's 
hands  have  an  affinity  for  sand  and  his  feet  for  wading - 
both  recognized  on  modem  playgrounds  -  so  has  his  heart 
for  boats.  He  throws  a  leaf  into  the  pond  and  watches  it 
sail  away.   His  nurse  cannot  drag  hun  from  the  puddle 
on  which  his  argosy  of  chips  is  once  afloat   Children  I 
knew  used  to  put  in  about  eight  hours  a  day  for  weeks  in 
sailing  sheUs.   Toy  boats,  making  and  saUing  them,  are  the 
proper  intermediate  course.   But  being  in  a  real  boat  your- 
self, and  m  control  of  it,  is  the  true  fulfilhnent.   Boys  push 
off  on  rafts  made  of  two  si;9epers,  with  their  c(»nplement  of 
loose  boards  and  sticks,  to  explore  the  Spanish  Mam;  there 
13  no  pond  withm  walking  distance  of  a  town  or  vUlage  that 
has  not  seen  its  Armadas.   I  know  a  boy  who  started  his 
ejyenence  in  fuU  control  of  a  small  skiff  at  five  years 
old  and  of  a  saflboat  at  eight  And  incidentally  it  is  fuU 
control  that  counts  -  better  first  man  on  board  of  two 
sleepers  and  a  barrel  stave  than  second  in  command  of 
the  biggest  batUeship.  You  can  learn  more  as  captain 


wo  PLAY  IN  EDPCATION 

-^-i«cl.  ptank  U«,  M  to.  ^  fa^, 

•Hie  Big  I^-un  age  fa  in  ,  j,^  the  «e  of  tool, 

of  anding  where  F.the,  keep,  the  hiimw  JtZ,^ 
«»w  .taver,  .„d  of  gotag  ^  work  wid,  th«n  ~i,Z 

^  H        .^".rr"        '""•'^  prior  f„™' 

h«i  V  "•''^'"''^•^•^"'•ungerofU^e 

Even     your  hatchet  shooM  'V  ,  th.  LlUyi™ 
^     chopp,„g  Vhtning  rod,  or  your         farf,  ^ 

«^  h«  norma  g„„.h  ,i^„„,  free  «««  t. 
d»WM^  The  tool  B  .  part  of  Man,  hfa  „o,»«|  oompfemeM 

«  aod  the^tS  b^l  tr.-r  17^.- 
time  for  this  growth  is  no-v  when  the  hand  hmJnhr'^ 

of  ^t«oI  .nd  hand  can  never  be  made  so  well  at  «^  X 

Partly  this  necessary  exteMion  may  be  won  by  the  ban 
dimg  of  any  sort  of  tool  or  weapon.  A  child  who  fa  m«2 
hammer-wise  or  bat-wise  or  racket-wise  has  at  le^^ 
ni^enta  of  toolmanship.  To  so.eTxt  how^rlt 
«  particular  tool  through  which  he  is  to  finrhTli  e 
and  utterance  that  must  now  be  leampH  m  •  • 
«.at  the  vMnfat  should  i^Jly^^TjZZ 

eariy.  "^l-eve  that  the  st^aaerii^  «tte«H» 


1 


THE  SKEPTIC  ]S| 

of  our  modern  artists  is  due  to  an  imperfect,  because  too  l»to 
acquired,  jomt  with  their  tools,  as  though  a  man's  tongue 
wete  to  be  put  Into  his  head  after  he  was  grown  up.  So 
far  .t  lewt  as  to  the  use  of  edg«I  tods  pr«!tice  sb  uld  cer. 
tainly  extend.  The  pocket  knife  Is  suirfy  «,  fategral  xmH 
of  the  small  boy.  With  this  instrument  he  wStles  hfa 
way  from  the  stone  to  the  iron  age.  And  the  smm  oofbt 
to  be  true  of  the  small  girl.  ^ 

The  child's  love  of  tools  is  not  a  mere  desiie  to  see  what 

he  can  do  with  them  -  or  does  not  long  remam  so.  Veiy 
soon  he  wants  to  get  results.  The  constructive  impulse  L 
not  dead  In  hmi  during  the  Big  Injun  age.  It  now  finds 
«pn»lon  not  only  m  more  elaborate  and  realistic  play  with 
sand  or  blocks,  but  in  many  other  kinds  of  constructive 
work.  Boys  like  especially  to  work  in  wood,  whether  their 
efforts  take  the  form  of  whittling  or  of  the  use  of  carpenter's 
tods,  and  of  course  they  like  to  make  something  that  is  of 
real  use  like  a  bat,  a  sled,  a  double-runner,  a  hut,  or  a  box 
for  took  Chfldren  who  brforecouW  never  get  on  at  school 
TT.^*^"  ^' "  opportunity  at  clay- 

modelmg.   If  you  can  introduce  some  form  of  sloyd  work 
m  your  summer  sdiool  or  playground,  you  will  meet  the  true 
play  mipube  of  the  children  more  squarely,  perhaps,  than 
manyotherway    There  is  often  a  dumce  on  the  playground 
to  cany  further  than  can  be  done  in  the  dassroom  the  fund». 
mental  sloyd  principle  of  reality.  The  smaU  diiklien  wiO 
be  g^ad  to  serve  the  state  by  carrying  off  stones  and  rubbish 
m  their  carts.   The  bigger  ones  can  help  to  make  benches, 
mend  fences  and  badotops,  shingle  the  roof  of  the  shelter 
or  by  out  footbaU  lldds  and  diamonds.  Boys  are  easily' 
encouraged  to  make  window-boxes  for  themsdves  and 
others.  A  boy  that  I  knew  did  aU  the  ^Iidn«  for  tbe 


7  n 


182  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

swings,  and  has  dnce  taken  the  course  on  the  Massachu- 
setts nautca  tnumng  ship  and  become  a  fuU-fledgJX 

In  country  places  much  more  ambitious  things  <^  be  «c 
complashed.   In  Andover.  Massachusetts,  Mr.  George  T 

„f  '^^'^^'^^  '"^^'^^  I  have  heard 

of,  had  the  boys  first  cut  and  haul  the  logs  and  then  build 
the  log  cabm  m  which  the  school's  final  exhibition  was  held 

This  is  also  the  time  of  social  criticism  and  experunenta- 

^Ln  JT'  ^""^^  week^ 

dk^l.^;       T'",  P^P'"''  ^'"^y  has  been  the 

Asconcertmg  cntic  of  men  and  thmgs.   He  must  be  shown ; 

proof    ^  ^^^^^  ^  W 

The  hnpulse  to  investigate  social  phenomena  is  a  great 

^^i-^-^f  ^""y"  ^^hat  makes  the  smallTy 

pull  his  httle  sister's  hau^  is  largely  his  desire  to  ascer^n 

va'lue  oT  hT7"\''t ^-'  " 
value  of  the  reaction  to  be  thus  obtained.   It  is  in  this  Bi« 

Sat  s^lt^l^  "  '^^"^^^^  Phenomenon- 

^  l.rrT  T  *°  *he  store  closet,  that 

one  learns  how  to  stand  on  one's  head  in  the  apple  barre 
and  studies  the  most  unostentatious  method  of  Zdni,  Z 
orchard  of  the  old  gentleman  next  uoor.   ^he^  a^ve«J 
To^etm^^T^^'^^^       '"^'^  brancht  ofTndr^ 

fhev  ZJtn  I       "^"^  *°  «^  ^hat 

mwZ  l  ^  ^''.7. «^<«  what 
WUham  James  would  have  called  their  cash  value- the  chfld 

to  ascertam  whether  you  too  are  real.  And  he  is  testing 
at  the  s«ne  time  the  ^dal  kws  and  msUtution;^;LII  yo„' 


THE  SKEPTIC 


183 


represent.  You  say  Don't  pretty  often;  he  wants  to  find 
out  which  tune  you  really  mean  it  —  just  as  he  sticks  pins 
into  his  aanpanions  in  order  to  deteimine  by  actual  experi- 
ment where  they  reaUyUve.  He  finds  that  you -even  you, 
the  American  parent  —  will  not,  as  a  rule,  allow  him  to  put 
his  feet  on  the  tablecloth  or  sail  his  boats  in  the  soup.  He 
wants  to  find  how  much  further  your  eflFective  personality 
extends.  He  is  like  the  man  who  goes  along  the  train  at 
night  when  you  are  trying  to  sleep,  striking  every  wheel 
with  his  hammer  to  see  what  kind  of  sound  it  will  give  forth. 

And  it  is  important  to  him,  in  this  connection,  that  you,' 
the  representative  of  the  grown-up  world,  should  not  give 
forth  an  uncertain  sound.   Mischief  is  the  outcroppmg  of  a 
h.jalthy  tendency,  but  it  does  not  foUow  that  all  its  mani- 
festations should  be  indulged,  on  the  pkyground  or  else- 
where.   On  the  contrary,  to  find  in  you  a  "mere  mush  of 
concession"  will  falsify  the  child's  reckoning  and  defeat  the 
object  of  his  search.   If  you  look  wiUi  bland  and  equal 
complaisance  upon  harmless  exuberance  and  rough  infringe- 
ment of  the  mterests  of  property  and  order,  he  must  inevi- 
tably conclude  that  the  two  are  equally  permissible.  And 
It  IS  mteresting  to  observe  that  he  wUl  not  be  pleased  by  the 
discovery.   He  is  like  a  man  prodding  in  the  snow  to  find  the 
outime  of  the  soUd  ledge.    It  will  not  answer  his  purpose  to 
find  that  there  is  no  ledge  there.  He  cries  perhaps  when  he 
burns  his  finger  in  the  fire  or  falls  through  the  ice,  but  he 
would  not  care  to  live  in  a  worid  of  water  that  was  not  wet, 
of  fire  that  did  not  burn,  or  of  institutions  that  were  capable 
of  no  reaction.    The  child's  search  for  reality  in  social  . 
matters  must  not  be  baffled  by  tampering  with  tiie  buoys 
that  society  has  phiced  to  mark  the  shoals. 

Neither,  on  the  other  hand,  must  the  tendency  to  mischief 
be  merely  snubbed.  As  an  indication  of  the  m«n  cunent 


1**  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

of  his  life  it  must  be  guided  and  mule  me  of.  A  teaehe,  . 

■Jtr,  «' ^"M"  Period, 

phase  of  the  one  gieat  instinct  to  W-tliat  is  to  search 

1^  «g«  i»  the  age  of  conceivtog  thiniis 

«  whrfes,  gettmg  their  general  intention  and  idea  T,w 
comes  tie  tune  for  finding  their  spedSc  qualitir  NatZ 
feems  to  have  assumed  that  the  child  yMby  this  peri^ 
h«  growth  have  conceived,  sufficiently  for  his  pr^^-f 

^vu  X.  .  »™»^         now  18  to  become  acauaintivl 

with  their  practical  use  and  limitation,,  to  es^l?^^^ 

dXri  1         •»  h.:et 

hh«  I         •     "  that  she  has  implanted  in 

1»  the  necessity  to  scrape  and  bang  hunself  against  it  wiA 
»  P««on.t.  a  desire  to  know,  in  most  concrete  an  j  X 
way,  ei^ctly  what  it,  «rf  what  he  him«df,  is  made  7  ^ 
Ihe  change  from  the  dramatic  to  the  Bit  Iniun  ».  i.  A. 
most  marked  instance  of  a  phenomenon  tSt'll*^ 
Ufe.  It  IS  the  same  ascent,  from  a  more  comolete  but 

Wd«r  one.  that  occur,  when,  upon  gr«l™.ti„n  from  college 
tte  revered  cpptain  of  the  -.unversity  aw  goes  to  wTk 

*^of  a  r,™:,er  o,  th„  BrotherhoodTl^^m:^ 
JT^'^  .    ™"°''  n»rt  in  history  is  the  passing  air.y 

and  satins,  its  gold  lace  and  powdered  wigs,  its  tin'el  and 
.U  m«,uer«le,  at  the  .wakenin,  of  .  d^^'life,  2i  « 


THE  SKEPnC 

the  surface  a  more  barren  and  unattractive  one.  lie  W. 
Und  of  cUdhood  h.3  grown  pale  before  the  de^U^^ 

th  r  last  cude  i«,and  th«r  Bttle  friend,  and  depart.  xTey 
wJl  come  ^am  m  another  form,  but  their  timei  not  now 
The  chdd  has  to  be  a  Hume  befo«  he  can  b«»m.  .  W 

dbiZon  ^;'*'^  ^epticism^ 
before  he  can  reconstruct  hi,  world  upon  .  fi^er 

mil'ief'  mrr^*^  »  -^Md^n  a  love  of 

m^chief  When  they  are  grown  up  the  «une  thing  wiU  be 
caU^scence  or  to  own  sake.  And  all  the  wuX^W 
tte  perennul  mstmct  of  curiosity,  the  instmct  that  S 

the  middle  of  Sahara  or  to  the  North  Pole  _  ij 
to  «,e  bade  of  the  North  Wind  iftt't.  p^fe"-  ^ 
to  know  what  b  there.  It  is  the  instmct  dSHivLiiita 
^e  U,K«t  and  the  smallest,  weighs  the  stars  ^TSS 
the  peiwnal  acquamtance  of  the  microbe -p^y^ 
professedly,  for  th.  uaeful  results  that  may  be  Sd  t^t 

The  chdd,  ,t  .s  true,  is  .ic,;  eoMly  Mientific:  no  true 
scenfs  .s.   Both  in  its  boisterous  and  in  it. 
^ons  his  camaraderie  with  Nature,  won  XST^ 

rjature  m  the  conviction  that  die  too  enjoy,  the  game 

wth  edge,  to  them- pUnts,  animals,  the  sea,  the  earth 
tt.  «r,  «1  dl  that  in  them  is,  aie  his -even  the  iany 
heavens  ijre  hi, -if  he  c«iind  th.fr  Hcret  And  to  sJIh 
<»»q»«tl»i.p«i.,.inedhyth.io™dbl.d«i,^,^ 


CHAPTER  XXIV 


BIO  INJUN 


Of  all  his  quest  for  reality  during  the  Big  T.ijun  age  the 
chUd  s  most  passionate  search  is  in  himself.   He  wants  to  be 
somebody  and  to  be  aware  of  it.   It  is  for  this  reason  that  he 
IS  so  obsessed  to  weigh  and  measure  himself  against  all  kinds 
of  obstacles,  and  especially  against  his  own  companions. 
He  secretly  doubts  his  own  judgment  and  wishes  to  be 
convmced  by  outside  evidence,  to  see  himself  as  real  in  others' 
eyes.   He  seeks  the  testunony  of  his  contemnoraries  not  alone 
because  these  are  his  natural  rivals,  but  also  because  they 
are  his  severest  judges  and  least  corruptible.   The  chOd  of 
this  age  wants  to  unpress  others,  to  let  the  universe  know 
that  he  IS  here ;  but  his  deep  desire,  behind  aU  other  objects. 
IS  to  convmce  himself. 

It  is  above  aU  for  this  absorbing  purpose  of  establishing 
his  reality  in  his  own  mind  that  the  chfld  has  abandoned 
make-believe.   He  turns  from  defeating  the  Spaniards 
m  that  hard-earned  victory  in  which  he  led  the  advance  while 
his  little  sister  had  charge  of  the  rear  guard,  to  the  more 
difficult  task  of  defeating  Billy  Jones  in  single  combat - 
partly,  it  is  true,  from  sheer  fighting  instinct,  but  partly  also 
because  he  beUeves  in  BUly  Jones  and  knows  that  he  can  get 
from  hmi  a  true  report  as  to  his  own  real  value.  Games 
are  now  uniformly  competitive.   A  year,  a  few  months,  ago 
they  were  largely  cooperative  and  dramatic;  but  now  the 
question  is  who  is  the  better  man,  or  the  greater  and  more 
enviable  m  some  respect. 

186 


big' INJUN 

We  all  know  the  sort  of  conversation  that  goes  on  T 
can  run  faster  than  you  can  "  "  T  ,.a  „  •  t  •  ^  .  * 
can"  "T  ^«  ulu^^  I  can  jump  higher  than  you 
can.  I  can  climb  higher,  dive  deeper,  and  come  ud 
drier  than  you  can."   "Mv  i,  ,  ^ 

father  "    "M,       i  •  ^^"^^  your 

brother  can  lick  your  big  brother."   He  may  not  have  a  bk 

brother.buthewiU  stick  toitiustthesame;LattW^^^^ 

maiufestation  or  accessor  of  greatness,  of  whatsoever  sort 
The  power  of  unblushing  assertion,  so  valuable  in  bus^J^' 
and  social  life  re^i     its  first  development  at 
a^Such  and  such  like  are  the  preliminary  pleadingly 

attnbute  that  is  not  made  subject  of  emulation.  PrSmi 
nence  is  even  claimed  by  him  whose  feet  are  hrZ  or  h^^2 

"Sen  "  It.''''  that  &  sto^ 

Sentunental  Tommy"  will  remember  that  ,^^e 

Hfuuipuy  replied.    It  was  my  father  that  was  hun?  "  T* 

Tort'of  dtle'  T  "^'r^  ^  *  PowerfulTact^  1,  th^s 

sort  of  dialectic  and  the  many  forms  of  contest  that  it  ushei^s 
in^  But  the  need  of  ascertaining  personal  valuTby^S 
moment  m  the  most  appUcable  scales  is  I'l:^^ 

But  the  child  ^es  not  only  to  find  whether  he  is  real 
«„,e  is  true  of  his  vvhole  Loh  l^^J^ 

to  .a™  ^  „™t  d<«m«ic  fen.  U.  ,^  ^""^^ 


f 


188  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

entirety,  indeed,  the  chUd's  instincts,  now  as  ever,  are  the 
conscious  promulgation  in  his  mind  of  the  law  of  the  growing 

is  simply  the  process  of  the 
birth  of  man.   But  at  this  period  the  conscious  form  of  the 
impulse  is  that  of  a  self  to  be  expressed.  The  constituting 
mstmcts  are  tied  up  in  a  bundle  labeled  "I."  It  is  I  against 
the  world— a  personality  to  be  wrenched  free,  and  outwardly 
projected  in  the  real.    The  child  identifies  himself  with  the 
forces  welling  up  within  him  and  finds  his  life  in  their  ex- 
pression --  or  perhaps  we  should  say  these  underlying  forces 
burst  into  individual  consciousness  as  the  chUd  and  claim 
m  him  their  right  of  utterance.    Inspiration  ia  of  that  par- 
ticular syllable  in  the  race  life  which  it  is  his  peculiar  mission 
to  pronounce.   And  the  form  of  the  commandment  is  toward 
outward  and  visible  expression,  the  concrete  demonstration 
of  himself. 

In  short  it  is  the  inclusive  instinct  to  Uve.  to  be  somebody 
in  the  ethical  as  well  as  in  the  physical  sense,  that  dominates 
the  Big  Injun  age  and  determines  its  most  salient  charac- 
teristics. 

The  chad's  self-assertion  is  crude,  clumsy,  objectionably 
loud.   And  it  must  be  so.  The  spuit  cannot  spring  to  fuU 
life  at  once.   Purposes  do  not  come  to  any  of  us  ready- 
made,  but  are  born  of  obedience  to  the  first  dim  hints  of  m- 
spiration,  hardly  more  than  a  pain  at  first,  an  uneasiness  —  a 
need  to  arise  and  go  forth,  not  knowing  wh  '  •  we  go.  Such 
is  the  first  coming  of  the  spirit  f  .  n  ^n  gP-.v  ,  ;  ten.  And  in 
the  small  child,  to  whom  the  couscious  n  /a  A  self-assertion 
has  newly  come,  a  smooth  and  perfect  presentation,  or  even 
knowledge  of  his  own  purposes,  is  wholly  impossible.  In 
his  anxiety  to  speak  o-it,  to  assure  himself  that  it  is  his  own 
voice  and  not  another  s.  he  is  often  noisy  and  rough,  and  is 
apt  to  be  annoying  to  his  dders,  whose  constant  eflfort  is  to 


BIG  INJUN  igg 

ZTlL^^r""  if  care  is  taken 

that  It  be  no  too  successful,  furnishing,  indeed,  a  convenfe^ 
ob^l^e  .gainst  which  the  chUd  may  find  and  exercia^ 

With  the  child  meantime  it  is  crude  exp««sion  or  none  at 
h  art         "  '      ^'"^      "'^^^  h«  has  it  in  his 

stood,  or  to  shrmk  back,  shun  the  risk,  and  assume  yet  a 
httle  longer  the  smug  and  hornless  little  boy,  commended  of 
hs  madden  aunts :  that  is  the  question  his  Ll  puts  to  him 
I  IS  the  question  of  accepting  or  flinching  from  the  throe  of 
birth  ;  now  .s  the  moment  of  becoming,  the  passionT the 
buddmg  soul.   Shall  the  leaf  be  put  forth,  or  shall  one  mo^ 
opportunity  go  by,  one  more  item  be  omitted  from  ^ 
final  stature  of  the  man  he  should  have  been  ?  Wha" 
m  him  IS  the  mstinct  to  be  alive,  to  realize  the  law  Z 
Nature  placed  in  him.   It  is  the  same  power  that  m^es^e 

burst  forth  m  rough  and  uncouth  ways  of  speech  and  action 

reir  '"f^'^y  ^  at  all,  but  must  forev"; 

remain  a  h  e  unrealized,  a  m^reant  to  his  informing  soul 

and  aHh  .'V'r  '^"^  "^^^  ^^^^^^^  his  contests 
and  all  the  mischief  that  he  does  is  to  show  his  own  impo^ 

tance.   He  wants  to  provehunself  a  devU  of  a  fellow  a  power 

cross.  Let  them  not  go  too  far,"  "A  time  wiU  come  "  anH 
n  V?r^r""^  of  the  stage  villab  or  b^^t 
makes  little  difference  which)  are  all  congenial  to^  .rto  o 

m  order  that  he  m  turn  may  take  notice  of  its  sitting  up  If 

feels  that  his  efforts  have  not  been  in  vain 
In  order  to  obtain  an  outside  and  unbiased  view  of  the 


190  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

Big  Iniun  •ttitudc  of  mind  I  once,  at  considerable  personal 
sacrifice,  made  a  study  of  the  fivensent  magazines  that  aie 

sold  to  chUdren,  named  for  the  most  part  after  famous 
characters  of  life  or  fiction  whose  wonderful  adventures  they 
narrate.         purpose  of  the  publi,  uers  is.  I  suppose,  not 
pnmanly  phdanthropic;  their  productions  are  undoubtedly 
meant  to  sell;  and  they  do  seU  if  one  may  judge  by  the 
number  of  them  that  exist.   To  that  end  they  have  to  please 
the  chUdren  who  are  their  purchasers.    And  they  do  this 
doubtless,  by  teUing  them  what  they  want  to  hear.  They 
hold  not  mdeed  a  mirror  up  to  nature,  but  a  mirror  up  to  the 
child  s  dearest  desire -the  desire  for  acknowledged  great- 
ness  m  hunself .   A  study  of  these  magaanes  is  a  study  of  the 
chUd  as  he  would  like  to  be,  and  has  a  special  interest  on 
that  account. 

The  very  first  number  that  I  read  contained  adventures  fit 
to  satisfy  the  most  exacting.    The  hero  starts  out  m  the 
mommg  to  attend  a  clambake.   When  he  arrives  near  the 
appomted  place  a  masked  ruffian  jumps  out  fror     ^und  a 
tree  and  points  a  pistol  at  his  head.    The  boy.  wi  ertain 
easy  p-ace.  knocks  down  the  masked  ruffian  and  is  about  to 
puU  off  hia  mask  when  he  is  mterrupted  by  terrible  screams 
commg  from  the  direction  of  the  beach.    He  rushes  through 
the  trees  just  in  time  to  see  one  of  the  girls  of  the  party  about 
to  be  kUled  by  a  bull ;  puts  the  bull  out  of  business  by  the 
simple  process  of  shooting  out  his  eye.  with  the  pistol  which 
he  had  just  taken  from  the  masked  ruffian;  and  then  ex- 
ptoms  ma  few  weU-chosen  words  to  the  owner  of  the  bull 
«^ho  appears  upon  the  scene  in  some  excitement,  that  the 
bull  has  been  making  a  nuisance  of  himself  and  had  to  be 
restrained.   Then,  immediately  after  a  hearty  meal  of  pie 
and  doughnuts,  he  very  appropriately  takes  part  in  a  swun- 
nungrace.  He  is  just  about  to  win  the  race  by  roundmg  the 


BIG  INJtJN 

mark  inside  of  his  hated  rival,  when  the  masked  ruffian. 
•coompMued  by  another  masked  ruffian,  turns  up  in  a  dory 

and  begin.  Utting  him  over  the  Iie«i  with  an  oar,  -  that  i 
to  say,  they  try  to  hit  him.  but  every  time  the  masked  niffiui 

strikes  the  hero  dives  and  comes  up  on  the  other  aide  of 

the  boat;  until  at  last  the  masked  ruffian  gets  on  to  his 

rhythm  and  hits  him  just  as  he  comes  up.   He  then  goes 

down  plmnp  upon  the  bottom  and  would  have  drowned  if  he 

had  not  been  rescued  by  his  defeated  rival  in  the  swimming 

race.   These  however  are  only  the  introductory  proceedings 

-  a  few  little  preliminary  stunts  leading  up  to  the  real  dimax 

of  the  day,  which  comes  in  a  ball  game  in  the  afternoon. 

Now  that,  I  suppose,  is  a  boy's  idea  of  passing  an  agree- 

able  forenoon,  his  notfon  of  a  pleasant  routine,  the  sort  of 

thing  his  daily  Ufe  wouW  be  if  he  couM  have  the  arranging 

It  is  because  of  this  predilection  for  demonstrated  greatness 

.srl\i*?J*"u?r*  ^  ^  -  the  age 

m  which  the  duld  wants  to  be  Big  Injun,  to  show  himself 
ffeat  and  glorious  and  to  be  acknowledged  as  such  The 

cigarette  is  I  think  in  some  sort  the  equivalent  of  the  pamt 
and  feathers,  the  scalps  and  claws  of  grizzly  bears,  affected 
by  the  ongmal  Big  Injun.  Boys  smoke  not  wholly  from  any 
pleasure  which  they  may  derive  from  the  experience,  but 
largely  to  be  seen  to  smoke  -  though  there  may  be  a  choice 
as  to  who  sees  them. 

There  appears  indeed  to  be  a  special  instinct  to  show  off 
to  shme  and  make  one's  self  feared,  admired,  and  envied,  to' 
establish  a  triumphant  social  personality.  And  this  desire 
sometimes  carries  chfldren  to  extreme  lengths  both  of  law- 
essness  and  of  heroism.  But  the  desire  to  show  off  is  not 
the  whole  of  the  self-assertive  impulse  nor  the  strongest 
partofit.  No  boy  wiU  be  really  satisfied  by  nuddng  people 


IW  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

think  he  can  do  things,  if  conscious  in  his  own  heart  that 
he  cannot  do  them.   Indeed  Big  Injun  truth  gives  even 
Big  Injun  fiction  a  close  race  for  it.   I  remember  one  time 
when  the  Sportsman's  Show  was  in  Boston  a  part  of  it  was 
the  performance  of  a  man  who  dove  from  a  pktform  fifty 
feet  high  into  a  small  trough.  The  man  gave  his  exhibition 
m  the  presence  of  a  large  audience,  and  was  presumably  paid 
for  doing  so.   But  one  afternoon  two  boys,  not  seeking 
pubhcity,  but  rather  shrinking  from  it,  waited  in  the  gallery 
until  the  people  had  gone  out,  and  then  climbed  forth  upon 
the  man's  lofty  perch  and  dove  into  his  bath  tub,  gaining 
no  extnnsic  reward  for  their  performance  except  a  wet  walk 
home  to  South  Boston  and  a  possibly  unsympathetic  recep. 
tion  when  they  reached  there.   The  motive  was  the  exercise 
of  a  higher  degree  of  daring  than  most  boys,  or  most  other 
people,  possess.  Deeper  always  than  the  desire  to  impress 
others  13  the  child's  longing  to  convmce  himself;  his  own 
reahty  is  still  the  dearest  object  of  his  search. 


CHAPTER  XXV 


THE  FIOHTINO  INSTINCT 


The  impulse  to  wratle  and  punch  each  other  h  strong  in 

children,  especially  small  boys,  from  a  very  early  age.  and 
13  the  basis  of  much  play  of  the  roly-poly  sort.   Like  the 
corresponding  instinct  in  young  puppies,  it  implies  no  ill  will, 
but  quite  the  contrary,  and  is  indulged  in  without  hostUe 
intent.   The  fighting  instinct,  indeed,  is  never  really  malevo- 
lent; Its  aim  is  not  to  bring  evil  on  the  adversary,  but  to 
fight  and  overcome  him.   Among  the  Irish,  m  whom  the 
mstttjt  IS  especially  vigorous,  fighting  is  properly,  like 
dancing  an**  conversation,  a  aocial  function.   Mr.  Dooley's 
description  c!  mental  depression  as  a  feeling  "as  if  ye  hadn't 
an  muny  in  the  whole  weary  world"  is  expert  testimony  to 
the  genial  nature  of  the  impulse.   The  notion  existuig  among 
Latm  nations  that  the  object  of  fighting  is  to  kill  your  ad- 
yersaiy  is  foreign  to  the  better  interpretation  of  it  -  what 
IS  the  use  of  an  enemy  when  he  is  dead?  The  pistol  and 
stiletto  are  instruments  not  for  fighting,  but  for  puttinir  an 
end  to  it. 

The  fighting  instinct,  it  is  true,  when  thoroughly  aroused 
induces  acts  that  often  result  in  death.  There  sometimes, 
mdeed,  supervimes  the  definite  desire  to  kill.  But  I  cannot 
thmk  that  such  desire  is  of  the  real  essence  of  the  fighting 
spirit.  One  does  not  picture  Hercules  or  Roland  as  slaves 
of  the  blood  lust  or  wishing  evU  to  their  adversaries,  even 
though  It  may  become  necessary,  in  the  course  of  business, 
o  193 


PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 
or  in  the  interests  of  art.  to  put «  end  to  thm    O^.-  , 

in  My  such  carele,,  v,.y  T^J^,^'^!^'^ 
•  vbdiltivc  sense  .  H.  •    .  .      "     •  "*<"  »^ 

Ill  will  JTppofrJtL  r  .  desi™  to  h«n. 

.gts!  ^ti:L'e:r'j:''r"  t  »•» 

R..*      •  ^  "^''^  for  the  weaker  s  de  to  take  nu4 

out  the  instinct  it«i»If      ^     •  laxe  part  in. 

guided  and  eneonraged,  «^ 

fight  on  due  occasion'  fa  pl.^rtJ^''S"S"" 
handicaps:  whilp      ♦»>    *u    \^     .   sevwest  of  «U  moral 

but  fa  protean  fn  it,  S^.^  ^H-''^^""'^'' 
back  into  our  nature  untiFw  if      ,    V" Mt«n 

i.  «  infini  JvS  ;  „;i"  '^J'"'^ 
fortune,  Mm,  tkLZ.^     '°™'-  dfaease,  iU 

flesh  and  Wo^!  ^faX^T"'  "  »' 

ii^t  deve,op„e:ti*ts,t::t'';^t'iTr 

"1  any  enternrisp    T+     i      i  'wuaes  to  see  defeat 

suppo^^,  r^artyr  .        t  iSr 

scendenZfXX.^      ^  ' 

War.    You  may  L'^.^'pXlTut "  T 

tb.™»<^'ali,e.b«tth.h«,kS7.i^r.^^' 


THE  FIGHTING  INSTINCT  IM 

The  polliwog's  Uil  does  not  look  much  like  a  pair  of  legs,  but, 

as  SUnle>  Hall  has  shown,  a  polliwog  whose  tail  has  not  been 
allowed  to  develop  will  never  have  the  legs  he  was  entitled 
to.  Fm  def^iUing  the  village  bully  to  the  Second  Inaugural 
is  a  long  journey,  but  th«  Generoui  Conqueror  is  there  in 
both  achievements. 

But  whatever  it  may  develop  into,  the  first  incanutkm 
of  this  great  spirit  is  pugilistic.   The  god  appears  first  as 
Man  or  Thor  or  Hercules.   His  lessons  are  fierce  and  hard 
to  leam,  but  tbey  mutt  be  learned  as  he  prescribes  them  if 
you  would  have  his  help.  And  the  time  to  learn  than,  as  in 
all  like  cases,  is  when  they  are  set  by  nature  —  beginning, 
in  this  instance,  at  the  age  of  six  or  thereabouts.   Its  first 
years  are  often  a  crucial  time  in  the  development  of  this  in- 
stinct It  is  a  sort  of  maidenliness,  rather  than  the  lack  of 
innate  courage,  that  overlays  the  martial  spirit  in  the  people 
of  a  peaceful  age.   As  a  clever  French  writer  has  saki, 
the  trouble  with  good  people  is  that  they  are  such  awful 
cowards.  But  the  disability  b  not  inevitable ;  the  peaceful 
yeoman  or  civilian  has  pretty  regularly  defeated  the  aristo- 
crat or  professional  fighter  at  his  own  game  whenever  he  has 
found  it  worth  ^hile  to  take  it  up  in  earnest  and  has,  in 
material  equipment,  possessed  a  fighting  chance.  His 
initial  difficulty  comes  through  neglect  to  train  the  instinct 
when  it  presents  itself.   Civilized  people  lose  the  use  of  the 
quality  through  its  qystematk:  suppression,  or  insufficient 
opportunity,  at  the  age  when  it  calls  for  utterance. 

I  do  not  mean  that  we  should  go  to  the  opposite  extreme 
and,  like  the  Spartans  or  the  old-fashioned  English  boarding 
school,  encourage  mere  savagery  among  our  boys.  A  society 
of  boOdogs  (tfunlidced  bears  is  too  expensive  an  escape  from 
cowardice.  There  shouki  on  the  contrary  be  the  insistent 
teaching  of  chivalry,  consulentk>n  for  the  weak,  respect  for 


196  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

the  defeated  sympathy  even  for  the  big  and  diunsy  ones 
who  are  such  easy  game.  Yet  on  the  other  hand  the  boy 
who  IS  timid  ought  somehow  to  be  taught  to  break  the  ici 
Mid  to  make  the  diseoveiy.  so  important  to  his  future  welfare 
Aat  he  also  has  fight  in  him,  and  that  defeat  itself  is  a  victon: 
within  the  reach  of  aU  and  worth  far  more  than  it  costs. 

The  expression  of  the  fighting  instinct  among  children 
however,  cove«  a  far  wider  field  than  that  of  actual  fighting 

7nte1.l!^'^V''^f ''''''''''' ^  -g'edient 
n  the  obsessing  desu-e  for  contest  that  is  so  strong  a  charac 

tenstzc  of  the  B,g  Injun  age.  As  the  child  emerg^  f romTe 
roly-poly  phase  of  the  dramatic  and  immediately  Ct! 
dramatic  penod  the  desire  for  contest  becomes  both  stro^ 
and  more  generahzed  and  shows  itself  in  an  almost  infinite 
van^yof  play.  Theformof  competition  is,  however,  sddom 
o  plav'th  T^^^^^^  As  in  aU  the  arts  and  alltlieforms 
of  play  the  favorite  expression  seldom  rests  upon  a  single 
n.tinct.  Children  will  occasionally  take  part  in  an  iL 
promptu  race,  "Here  to  the  corner -one-ter-three-go  !"- 

'''^  ^"^^^  ^  ^«"test  to  hold 

their  mterest  very  long.  The  issue  must  be  something  more 
significant;  superiority  must  be  shown  in  the  l^Z 
phshment  of  some  otherwise  desirable  end.  Not  merX 
running  faster,  but  catching  or  getting  away;  not  m^ 
tfirewing  straighter.  but  hitting  a  mark,  p.-ef^rablv  a l^e 
one -  as  for  mstance  your  competitor  himself  or  the  hat  of 
some  innocent  third  partv-  not  liWr,-  -  « ^iax  or 

but  lifting  ,         X  *  greater  weight 

but  ift  ng  your  antagonist  off  his  feet  and  depositing  4n 

Lt^l  prefei^rSTS 
Td^nTt^'""^  "  satisfaction  of  some  other  instinct- 
rfchasing  hittmgamark,  or  personal  encounter  -  with  that 
<tf  competition  pure  and  simple.  with  that 


THE  FIGHTING  INSTINCT 


197 


Or  competition  may  take  the  indirect  form  of  doing  stunts 
—  climbing  to  a  branch  or  window  where  the  rest  dare  not 
follow,  making  a  higher  dive,  swallowing  a  more  repulsive 
^Vjf.t,  But,  with  stunts  also,  continued  interest  depends 
upon  the  son  of  thing  achieved.  There  will  be  less  glory 
f(  r  clie  hero  vho  threads  the  finest  needle  than  for  the  one 
V  ho  jumps  the  widest  brook. 

But  always  most  popular  of  all  is  that  form  of  contest 
which  satisfies  the  social  instinct,  in  which  every  one  takes 
part,  in  which,  through  many  episodes,  effort  is  directed 
toward  some  luomentous  end  — tagging  "gool"  or  getting 
back  to  gool  untagged,  freeing  or  holding  prisoners,  getting 
safe  across  a  dangerous  territory.  In  short,  the  favorite 
form  of  contest  is  the  game,  and  competitive  games  are 
accordingly  the  favorite  play  of  the  Big  Injun  age. 

All  the  games  of  this  age  are  competitive,  and  all  I  shall  say 
of  them  in  other  chapters  is  part  of  a  description  of  Big 
Injun  competition.   But  there  are  certain  general  charac- 
teristics of  competitive  play  that  should  be  spoken  of.  First : 
the  fighting  instinct,  though  its  coming  is  comparatively 
sudden,  does  not  appear  in  its  full  strength  all  at  once. 
The  competition  of  the  eariier  part  of  this  age  has  large 
elements  of  fooling  and  of  sheer  physical  exuberance.  The 
games  are  still  vay  roly-poly  and  informal,  and  ought  to  be 
so.   "Nature  makes  no  jumps;"  a  chiW  does  not  become 
fiercely  conpetitive  all  at  once.     Competition,  like  any 
impulse,  appears  first  dimly  and  in  the  soft,  and  hardens 
gradually.    It  is  accordingly  a  great  pity  that  children  of 
the  Big  Injun  age  in  our  citira  w  so  much  under  the  in- 
fluence of  their  older  brothers  —  who  in  turn  are  too  mudi 
led  by  the  newspapers  and  by  grown-up  opinion  —  so  that 
they  think  the  only  games  worth  the  serious  attention  of  a 
young  man  of  sev  ^n  or  eight  years  old  are  baseball  and  foot- 


198  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

ball  as  played  Sy  the  professional  or  coUege  teams  Th« 
Te  rjr'^  need  of  Anaencan  play  lifT.tT^pr^l 
tune  IS  the  revival  on  a  national  scale  of  the  informal  hZv 

deep,  hill  dill,  old  man  on  the  nastu    ..o.  •  *u 

^  .sh  .„  the  ngh.  place,  and  surely  there  fa  no^te^ 
place  for  /oohahoeM  than  wherever  you  happen  to  b. 
you  are  seven  years  old.  Pp™  »  oe  wliea 

Second:  there  fa  the  <«»guH,  tendency.  He  earlv 
more  mformal,  competition  of  thfa  period  ^J^^ 

•ehres,  or  «,metm.es  change  to  a  different  gm,e  every  few 
day..  But «,  the  Big  Injun  spirit  inten^es  f  „d  cZZ^n 
becomes  more  keen, -.  development  which  coo  "nu«  Z 
n  o  t  e  „e^  age,  though  th«.  in  .uboriina.K..r:^ 

utlaJ l?!:,rrr  monopolizes  Mtemion 

me  diJd  may  stUI  mdulg.  i„  otter  sports  of  a  subordinate 

tiorin  whlhT"°r  'voca- 
tions m  which  he  mil  occasionally  unbend;   nd  „«* 

Aodd  be  encourage!  on  evcy  playground,  My^ 

those  not  yet  proficient  in  the  ruling  game    Km  iZ  T 

maiorit,  the  main  busines.  «,  Bfe  -  i'^^ofkl':^^^' 

you  engage  on  your  way  to  «iool.  in  ,«.as,  Z  X  w^ 

home  dunng  the  afternoon,  «>d.fter.«pp,,_;^  bel,!Z 
espea^g^ewhich  happens  just  then  t^i„r.^^ 
«i       ^  the  mominHhe 

^•rrorsrcor^r.a-'-'^-'rf 


THE  FIGHTING  INSTINCT  199 

The  cause  of  this  extraordinary  unanimity,  as  of  the  whole 
one  game  tendency,  is  I  suppose  partly  in  the  instinct  of 
mutation;  but  there  is  also  a  deeper  reason.   Sir  Thomas 
Malory  tells  of  a  kni^t  who  was  noted  for  Idlling  dragons 
au.  strange  monsters,  but  was  not  much  good  at  overcoming 
other  knights.   Now  a  boy  has  no  use  for  a  knight  whose 
talent  is  of  that  sort.   He  does  not  care  to  excel  in  the  game 
that  nobody  else  is  playing.   His  soul  can  find  satisfaction 
only  m  wmmng,  or  making  a  place  for  himself,  in  the  game 
that  everybody  plays.  Kb  reason  b  the  same  that  turns 
the  American  man  toward  business.   We  do  not  care  for 
walk-overs.   In  England  politics  may  be  the  game ;  in  Ger- 
many  it  may  be  science.   Here  it  is  running  mills  and  banks 
and  railroads,  and  those  are  accordingly  the  pursuits  that 
have  attraction  for  the  strong.  So  with  our  boys  it  is  base- 
ball, not  polo,  golf,  or  fancy  riding,  or  any  game  that  is  not 
bemg  generally  played,  that  represents  real  life. 

Another  reason  why  those  who  supervise  children's  play 
should  seek,  during  each  season  of  the  year,  rather  to  give 
one  game  a  general  vogue  than  to  teach  a  hundred  games, 
however  good,  is  that  you  are  doing  weU  if  you  can  make 
even  one  new  game  successful.   Children  are  very  conserva- 
tive,  and  it  is  hard  to  plant  a  game  so  firmly  that  it  will  grow 
in  the  shifting  and  anarchistic  soil  of  the  Big  Injun  age. 
The  test  is  not  what  the  children  will  do  while  some  older 
person  is  playing  with  them,  nor  ev<m  what  they  wUl  do  on 
the  playground  without  such  leadership.  The  real  test  is 
what  they  will  play  in  the  streets  and  empty  lots,  what  will 
absorb  the  mind  of  boydom  and  girldom  throughout  your 
neighborhood.  A  real  game  is  an  institution,  sometiiing 
that  hves  ia  the  hearts  of  its  constituency,  in  which  a  vital 
interest  is  embodied.  When  handball  was  started  at  th« 
North  End  Park  m  BoitMi,  it  m«ie  a  handbaD  court  of  «my 


PLAY  IN  EDDCAHON 

oI^„  J'll  u*"''™'-  who  win  ma. 

pjner  s  base  agam  the  fashion  i„  .„y  dty  whe«  H  l».  died 
«.t  »d  so  make  .  playground  of  eve^-  street  not  too  much 
pven  over  to  the  intruding  interests  of  traffic  will  be  . 
f^-Artor  to  JI  ite  f„t««  generations,  and  earn  rLonu 
"..ent  of  one  who  has  n>«le  two  ehild«n  g«„  wh«,  one  ,Z 
to  g«,w  before.  The  difficulty  of  the^Lk  JlTiTi^ 
beneficence  wiU  merit  such  canonization 

-"^  "        ™  «^<=nt..y  games 

«  wel  .a  m  the  more  violent  kind.  Big  Injuns  make  ZZ 

aTe^e:^7;^"'"^r*-  •"^^"-J  where  ehuZ 
are  expected  to  spend  a  large  part  of  the  day,  for  instane.  .o 

smmner  pUyground,  should  be  without  prev  XLTrTrnW 
»«n^of  which  checkersisoneofthebestriiX'Zr:: 


So  insistent  is  the  fighting  instinct  during  the  Big  Iniun 
age  that  no  play  after  that  age  is  weU  begun  b  mud 

acquired  Stan  Hose  who  unagine  that  plav  is  easy  should 
ob^rve  the  effect  of  the  fighting  instinct  in  cMdre?Ilm« 

other  form  of  full  and  earnest  competition?  la  it  easv  to 

A^^^t?^  5  Do 
Zio^  "  T'T  »*°        -oral  ex- 

pansion The  nearest  they  wUI  come  to  doing  «,  wiU  be 
^spelhng  match  or  other  exercise  in  which  the^TpUy 

To  thi.  accomrt  of  the  fighting  fama  of  play  d,ould  be 


THE  nOHTING  INSTINCT  201 

added  this  upon  the  American  spirit  of  competition-  ex- 
cellent  as  this  spirit  b  in  the  main,  it  is  not  in  itself  the 
whole  of  what  the  play  spirit  should  be.   It  is  one-sided 
and  requires  supplementing.   Especially  it  needs  as  a  correc- 
tive the  German  idea  of  a  standard,  ol  toeing  the  mark, 
attaining  a  decent  minunum  in  aU  round  development: 
the  Idea  through  which  the  Fatheriand  has  rendered  such 
noble  service  to  her  sons.  People  can  attain  a  standaid 
when  It  is  required  of  them  -  witness  the  feats  of  horseman- 
ship that  every  West  Point  cadet  learns  to  perform.   Do  it 
for  America :  make  yourself,  whether  you  can  hope  to  shine 
m  competition  or  not  -  regardless  of  any  such  reward  -  the 
sort  of  unit  of  which  your  countiy's  temple  can  be  built 


CHAmK  XXVI 
cHASfflB.  emonra,  ,auiho.  and  «kob  Dwrmei. 
Comtmm  is  not  the  only  desire  of  the  Big  Im„„  ase 

piS-  thT         "  r •  '"to,  in  lost  all  S 
play.  The  hunting  .nsftnct,  combined  with  comDetitioB 
to™  the  basb  of  h„„d«I,  of  ganies,  includirrtj^; 
wh.d  .«  most  pop^r  during ti,e  early  stages  of  LspS 
to  hide  and  go  seek  and  other  hiding  games  we  havTri^ 

children  in  tiieir  chasmg  games  prefer  to  catch  hold  of  the 
quarry -using  for  instance  the  ancient  rubric  "Kve  to 
.«  of  my  men,"  to  measure  the  duration  of  the 
or  even  to  throw  him  down,  rather  than  merel/LcStim 
In  some  games  of  the  I  spy,  ™n  sheep  run,  varirtyfterefa 
opportunity  for  complicated  plans  of  Lldng  a»  pr^'^j 
tor  long  expeditions,  sometimes  mvolving  t,re  S  ^ 

to  bring  them  to  a  successful  issueH^ 
^  g«n«  w.  c«,  trace,  in  short,  the  shadowy  outi  ne 
^  a,.  s«n.  predatop,  i„herit«.ce  that  still  causes  S  genttl 
men  to  crawl  on  their  stom^Ja  thnnigh  .  swamo  or  ,t 
fr^ze  for  hour,  behind  a  screen  of  boug£  ^ZX^  S 
circumventing  a  trout  or  duck.  '  ™  ™  clance  of 

But  the  chasing  games  are  not  wholly  expressions  of  the 
hunting  ins^et  unless  we  mdudc  the  inheritance  not  „„t 
of  the  hunter  but  of  the  pursued.  The  k,ve  of  chasiii 
«  evidently  not  their  only  attn«tion-«i  is  Z^ll 
be  the  cse  with  dogs.  is  «  mud.  if  not'gS^ 


CHASING,  CUMBINO,  AND  PAliINO  m 
«t  in  grtting  .„.ay^  ChUdren  d.  not  like  especiaUy  to  be 

■t  Onthe<»ntn»ytl.eriB,pl«tfomioft.gi3„ft„a 
mere  teasinggame,  m  wl,ioli  the  main  .tt»cti<m  Uu>m^ 
Ae  slowest  runner.  In  .1.  tl,e  chasing  games  the  pJZ^ 
.t  least  as  well  pleased  as  the  pursuers,  the  IrenWffiT 

t.on,  indeed,  the  predominanUy  pursuer  chUd  b  the  excep- 
tion He  IS  no.  exactly  a  "spon,"  in  biological  s^ 
a  niinority  strand  in  the  r«W  compodtion-Zil 
^uth  Aniencan  cattle  who  possess  the  e.«ptionr,X 
of  nrtuitive  and  who,  as  Darwin  tells  us,  command  a  scard^ 
value  for  lading  bullock  teams  on  that  account  inTe^ 
cho«.ng  a  diatnct  attorney,  I  would  k»k  «™t  for  one  who  1^ 
been  a  pursuer  child. 

thing,  die  chasmg  being  delegated  to  elder,  or  to  offic^ 
who«  i„te,«rt  can  be  enlisted  in  the  cause -for  i^^ 
fte  games  of  steUing  fnrit  or  g,«»ries,  of  ringing  d^T 
of  snowballing  the  august.   H.  whole  v.rie^,.d  wC  oj 

tag,  I  think,  must  come  pretty  near  being  the  oldest 

^nd  the.  ^st-ha^^"  S^T^STS 
that  form  of  intercourse  with  irascible  contemporaries- 
perhaps  thromng  stones  and  nuts  at  the  non-climbing  spedes 
of  tagging  them  -  we.,  a  daily  pastime  of  o 

though  p«,bably  not  pn>motive  of  its  popularity.  Ho^' 
cows  dogs  and  elderly  gentlemen  still  serve  the  youS 
members  of  ,tm  the  same  capacity.  Sometimes  the^^ 
•s  of  a  supernatural  order,  a  witch,  ghost,  or  Bogev  Man 

rSJir'f-   t^-^-->--d  notorious  riders  £ 
the  Black  Douglas  make  excellent  pursuers  at  a  pinch. 


**  MAY  IN  EDUCATION 

ftonting  th.t  in  the  long  centuries  of  bk  development  the 
faculty  of  being  d«  wm  „  in,  ortantTXt  „f 

be.ng  on  the  spot.   When  one  think,  of  LT,  „ 
with  the  „«,e.  large  .„i.d,.  „d  of  h^Z^ 
M  wdl      appetemg  he  must  have  appeared  to  theTft 
^  ««n  «  though  this  must  have  been  the  case  To 
get  Srst  to  the  tree  and  ,  litUe  way  up  it  before  the  „.I,  J 

faetor  m  the  survival  of  our  respected  pronnitors  dnrin. 

«ive  lH»,  „  disputed  hunting  grounds  with  bears  and  otto 
hungiy  and  unsympathetic  neighbors  who  were  their  su- 
pemrs  m  strength.  01,.  wdf  fa  .  c«.,u,.  who  hL  haun^ 
man  ,  imagination  even  down  to  historic  time,.  Myth  imj 
tradition  still  bear  tmces  of  the  extent  to  wU^f„3,^ 
h^musthave  d«d  out  hisdiet  with  the  less  speedT ^^e^ 

muTr^'   I?  ^  '  '°  "ko.  survival 

must,  m  countless  rn^ee,.  h.v.  been  for  those  who  codd 
^  tot  back  to  the  boats  or  to  some  pUce  of  cone^«t 
or  defense;  and  there  is  certainly  in  the  chasinTM^ 

to  ^  „  to  one's  own  line  or  side.  In  some  games  ^ 
yTun"  *^  "      ^"^"tion  by  the  mother  'J^Z 

There  is  also,  I  think,  in  the  chasing  gam«  a  diwemibl. 
reminiscence  of  the  raid  or  foray.   IndL  Se  veo^^ 
of  the  mstact  on  which  these  games  are  founded 
-ge  the  punning  of  .  des  .„t  upon  some  neigrhorZp 
stealing  up  upon  them  urn  j-ares,  watchin,,  f 
unsus«v  about  their  i^t^^^'S 
unpendmg  fate,  leaping  out  f™.  th.  ubST":)^ 


CHASING,  CLIMBING,  AND  FALLING  305 

dreadful  howls,  -  and  then  slay,  burn,  tomahawk  and  cany 
off,  and  disappear  with  wild  yells  of  triumph,  or  push  off  in 
one's  Ught  shallop  and  sail  triumphant  home,  each  narrating 
his  own  marvelous  exploits.  Some  such  tendencies  make 
the  mspiration  of  the  I  spy  games,  of  F^ch  and  Indians, 
robbers  and  policemen,  "trees";  and  the  satisfaction  is 
greatest  when  there  is  a  large  more  or  less  wild  tract  to  run 
over,  with  some  cozy  spot  as  a  home  camp  for  each  side. 
Games  of  this  class  ought  to  be  more  encouraged  than  they 
have  been  heretofore  by  playground  leaders  wherever  op- 
portunity exists. 

Two  secondary  instincts,  already  mentioned  as  subsidiary 
to  those  of  hunting  and  fighting,  and  serving  with  them  as  a 
basis  for  many  important  games  of  the  Big  Injun  age,  are 
striking  with  a  stick  and  throwing  at  a  mark.»  At  the  comer 
where  these  instincts  join  the  main  thoroughfare  of  contest 
many  of  our  best  games  are  built.   Ring  toss  — to  begin 
with  a  minor  instance  of  the  marksman  instinct  —  is  one 
of  the  few  games  that  wiU  go  without  watching  on  almost 
any  playground;   and  quoits,  its  grown-up  couirteipart, 
shows  similar  persistence.   Tip  cat  and  duck  on  a  rock  are 
imong  the  most  popular  games  we  have.   The  former  has 
the  great  advantage  of  being  easUy  carried  on  in  city  streets, 
as  may  be  observed  in  New  York  for  instance  where  it 
sometimes  combines  with  certain  features  of  basdball.  Base- 
ball itself,  in  the  individualistic  form  of  scrub  or  tiiree  ohi 
cats,  is  an  increasing  obsession  of  this  age.    Marbles,  univer- 
sally popular,  contains  the  same  element,  though  it  is  to  be 
regretted  that  nowadays  mere  tossing  seems  to  have  driven 
out  the  more  sdent^  snapping  of  the  marble  under  the 
reiterated  iiqunction  of  "knuckle  down."  Tops  leacb  their 
*  Dr.  Goliek  bat  ihown  the  iaqwrtanoe  <rf  thflM  iastiBets. 


^  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

greatest  popukrity  wh«i  It  U  p«t  of  the  game  to  strike, 
and  If  possible  to  split  down  the  middle,  your  adversary' 
top  by  a  straight  and  mighty  throw.   Snowballing  «ti«i. 
the  mstmc  m  .ts  more  heroic  aspect,  and  is  a  favorite  fo™ 

hJr^^  ^^^^^^"^  neighbor, 

hoods  Our  national  games  -  baseball,  football,  basket 
ban.  hockey,  tennis,  golf,  and  billiards «U  based  in 
part  on  marksmanship,  as  are  a  hundred  minor  ones,  includ- 
ing even  parlor  games  like  bean  bag.  ping  pong,  and  croki- 
no^.  Ball  games  are  found  among  many  primitive  races  and 

an  obsession  in  America  before  the  white  man  came, 
eaua^ I        »"b«diary  instinct,  hitting  with  a  stick,  is  almost 
equally  pervasive.   It  is  an  element  in  most  of  our  important 
^mes^  including  oat.  hockey  (with  its  variations  of  shim^ 
and  polo),  baseball,  cricket,  billiards,  golf,  and  tenniTT 
aU  of  these  it  is  combined  with  marksmanship  -  the  hittine 
IS  either  at  a  mark  or  with  some  idea  of  placing,  alt  tennU 
and  baseball.   The  marksman  instinct  fin<b  satisfS 
not  merely  in  the  aboriginal  form  of  throwing,  but  in  S 
a  b:;' a"l°'  "^f  ^' er  -ith  a  ba,  a'stick.  a 
•  bow.  a  gun.  a  shng.  by  throwing  a  potato  on  a  stick  or  by 
kickingatagoalasbfootbaU.  The  instinct  is  strong  enough 
even  to  support  such  diy  forms  of  competition  as  the  Ze 
throwing  or  shooting  match -though  interest  is 

object  that  affords  some  catastrophic  reaction  to  help  out 
So  strong  mdeed  is  the  marksman  instinct  that  it  threatens 
n  Amenca  at  least,  to  absorb  the  whole  play  schedule 
Itself.   The  American  youth  are  just  now  missUe  mad.  The 
old  running  games -like  hill  dill,  three  deep,  prison^* 

'^"f  ^^^'^^•"^  Tn'ot'bS 
^m^cation  of  it,  at  least  some  sort  of  throwing 
««»e.  Playground  baU,  squash  ball,  basket  ball, 


CHASING,  CUMBINO,  AND  FALUNO  207 

ball,  captain  ball,  volley  ball  —  if  the  word  ball  is  not  in  it 
a  new  game  need  not  apply,  and  hardly  an  old  one  can  be 
confident  of  wvival.  Him  is  need  in  thb  oountiy  of  a 
Myopu  Game  Association  or  Aetigmatics'  Protective  League 
to  preserve  the  right  to  play  for  those  whose  physical  apti- 
tude is  not  in  the  direction  of  the  prevailing  craze. 

Strijdng  with  a  stick,  apart  from  aiming  a  missile  at  some- 
thing, is  not  found  in  any  popular  game  so  far  as  I  remember, 
but  it  makes  part  of  the  fun  in  patting  mud  pies,  in  chopping, 
drumming,  whacking  fences,  and  cutting  off  the  heads  of 
flowers  by  the  roadside  as  you  go  along,  and  I  suppose  of 
singlestick.  It  certainly  added  a  joy  to  a  (wooden)  swoid- 
and-buckler  existence  that  I  partook  of  at  one  period. 

Climbing  is  an  important  instinct  of  the  Big  Injun  age. 
It  appears,  indeed,  during  the  preceding  period,  and  even  in 
the  astonishing  grip  that  the  nursery  Hercules  fastens  on 
any  finger,  nose,  or  other  convenient  object  that  comes  within 
his  reach ;  but  somewhere  from  eight  to  eleven  is  the  time 
of  its  most  marked  development  A  tree  u  to  a  duM  an 
obviously  useful  object,  a  Jacob's  ladder  to  be  dimbed,  a 
leafy  castle  to  be  explored,  or  just  something  to  be  gone  up, 
without  ulterio  design.   There  is  a  thrill  in  getting  to  the 
top  and  looking  out  over  the  biUows  of  the  surrounding 
woods,  — with  incidental  joys  in  bending  sUm  trees  over 
until  they  let  you  down  to  the  ground,  or  perchance  in  break- 
ing off  the  tops  of  young  pines  and  crashing  through  the  thick 
branches;  although  the  time  you  landed  in  the  hornets' 
nest  may  bring  back  with  it  a  painful  remembrance,  even  at 
a  distance  of  some  forty  years.  There  is  joy  in  swinging 
on  the  ends  of  long  bmnches.  or  in  finding  a  seat  high  up 
among  the  leaves,  in  which  you  take  those  delicious  naps,  of 
seldom  less  than  four  seconds'  duration,  to  show  your  friends 


*»  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

how  comfortable  it  is.  There  is  fascb.tlon  in  the 
danger,  and  .netting  stunts  to  the  less  expert.  Iw Jlw 

*  .  ncnen  tliat  grew  on  it  —  where  r 

favonte  terror  was  extnuTted  hv  olimki..  . 

.hen  e^i„,  T^^^:^:  cr^t' 

•  man  ,„d  a  Mder  and  a  lot  of  ropes  " 

rtinrt  "TfallZ,"!"  ""f-'P'  ^""•Wng  in. 

Kinct.   It  IS  otrtunly  strong  m  monkej-,,  and  there  is  Mme. 

hth^baf " 

high  bar,  spnng  and  catch  a  lower  one  • 
.0  another  hi,h  „„«  on  the  other  dr^reTa'ZS 
«f  rhjthm, joy  in  stren^h,  and  .„  ■Ilu.ionTfVin'^t; 

f^cinatTon  „,  cLZf^  i*  rS^' 

tte  to  elin.b  beeause  they  are  bom  thaXHd  M 

get  a  great  part  of  the  satisfaction  in  a  bam  „^ 

on  ladder, properly  .r»„ged.  "'""^^ 

^e,.  but  with  it,  a,  in  ev^^Zt^^t  ti,^ 
pother  msf  nct,  especially  as  combined  n  a  ^T^* 
double  the  attraction.   A  go«I  combSnT 

ex^Hence,  had  a  ^rrj'^^VT^::^  Z 

^93rei-:-r„-rr.iS 


CHASINO,  CUMBINO*  AND  FALUNO  aOB 

necessity  of  shinning  up  ropes  or  ascending  trees.  Mountain 
dimbing  I  take  to  be  mainly  love  of  nature  plus  the  perennial 
Big  Injun  instinct  for  eonapicuoiu  and  dangerous  stunts. 
Even  adolescents  cease  to  be  aHwreal;  their  g^nmastie 
feats  arise  fn>m  patriotMin,  as  ia  the  Turn  Vereins,  or  from 
love  of  competition. 

Then  them  ai«  sKding  gumu,  or  rather  plays,  for  there 
is  but  little  competition  in  them,— coasting,  skiing,  running 

on  the  waves,  ^Hdinp  on  the  icp  or  on  slanting  poles,  or  sliding 
down  the  cellar  door.    (  oasti ti^r  is  the  most  popular  of  these, 
and  deservedly  so,  especiallx  in  the  country,  and  most  of  all 
on  a  good  cra^  Any  one  who  has  «vw  started  out  on  a 
bright  winter  mor  '  •  on  one  of  ow  New  England  hills, 
with  a  trusty  sled  u  .  >  le  whole  w  orld  at  his  feet,  with  the 
sense  that  he  can  be  in  a  few  seconds  in  what  part  of  it  he 
likes,  has  felt  the  true  exhilaration  of  the  explorer.   And  the 
evoik^p  whm  all  ue  coasting  together  and  the  coast  is 
getting  haidor  and  faster  every  minute,  w^le  the  big  white 
moon  comes  up,  the  snow  squeaks  under  your  feet,  and  the 
sleiph  bells  sound  crisp  and  far,  are  not  less  inspiring.  Then 
there  is  double-runner  coasting,  in  which  the  steersman, 
weired  down  with  responsibihty,  pilots  the  hurtling  craft 
round  haiMaisinf  comers,  past  sleighs  with  their  hysterical 
horses,  over  slews  and  jounces  and  straight  drops,  safe  to 
the  distant  end  of  the  coast,  where  everybody  hopes  we  have 
maue  the  farthest  mark.    That  is  perhaps  the  form  in  which 
coasting  holds  its  popularity  the  longest  —  as  illustrated  for 
instance  at  St  Morits.  And  the  Chinaman's  unsympathetic 
description  of  tobogganing :  "  Whidi !  —  walkee  up  a  mile," 
suggests  how  good  exercise  it  is ;  while  to  the  boys  and  girls 
the  walk  up  is  taken  almost  unconsciously  in  the  antid- 
patory  exdtement  of  the  next  coast 


aiO  PUY  IN  EDUCATION 

It  is  extraordinaiy  with  wliat  smUl  couts  Httk  rf,iU— 
can  be  »tisfied.  One  with  .  drop  of  tToiZ  1^ 

ri'Lr"  it'  ^<^'  t'^Z 

^tortment   I  have  Itnown  a  boy  of  five  to  coast  all  the 

"T:  ,  playgrounds,  hy  means  of  low  banlts  or 

artfiaal  shdes,  might  reach  thousands  of  childr^  °' 
have  no  fa.r  chance  to  play  during  the  winter. 

And  coasting  need  not  be  confined  to  winter  Little 
chjhta,  « I  have  s«d,  like  very  much  to  run  dowJ  a  b^k 
and  any  kind  of  inclined  pUne  is  «  very  «^  nil.  „f 
paratus  for  child.n  f„m  .he  time  tuJ'J^^AtZ 
^l^at  one  end  is  used  in  Japan  in  playgroJl,^ 
^ed  for  the  soldier'  orphans.  As  the  children  ^tM^ 
^Jf^  ««">«  tUt«l  a  little  mo«  and  used  Ja  slid" 

Sometunes  it «  a  boy  on  a  sled,  wmrtims  .  boy  ™TCd' 
and  sometunes  just  a  boy-this  pi«,  o,  LZiJ^t 
perha^  n^  so  popular  with  the  mothe^  as  someX^Sjds 
It  d.™w  b.  m«,e  of  maple  or  of  some  kind  of  metal  to  avoti 
mS^with  (which  sho'uW  Z  a 

^uJtL^T  •»  *^  I-y.  plain  wooden 
pZ^un^a'nt '  ""^^''^P^'^ 

Ton.^J^TT^'  " '^'^"^ P"™-"' i»  standing 

in^rfltnTbir^rsuT^i^t'^"^^^ 

»  A  sliding  over 

watwhlb  on  the  slippeiy  moss  into  the  deep  pool  beneath 

>««ph..  N.  doubt  thi.coBb«»tion  of  rtndght  drop  .Id 


CHASING,  CLIMBING.  AND  PALLING  211 

th»-Tsing  plunge  will  be  utilized  at  our  pleasure  resorts  before 
long,  as  so  many  other  forms  of  coasting  already  are.  The 
straii^t  drop,  with  its  command  of  those  viscmd  sensations 
of  which  emotion  is  said  actually  to  consist,  b,  as  I  have 
said,  the  mechanical  equivalent  of  melodrama. 

The  first  falling  game  following  those,  like  "falling, 
falling,"  "I  had  a  little  hobbyhorse,"  etc.,  for  which  the  pa- 
rentd  arms,  lap,  and  1^  furnish  the  necessary  apparatus  — 
a  game  happily  combining  coasting  with  the  sympathetic 
illustration  of  the  wheel  —  is  that  of  rolling  down  a  bank.  I 
once  asked  a  little  girl  how  she  managed  to  play  in  her  back 
yard  in  town.  She  said,  "  Well,  you  see,  we  are  very  lucky 
because  we  have  two  barrels."  I  congratulated  her  upon 
tl»  drcumstance,  but  could  not  at  once  divine  the  precise 
nature  of  the  good  fortune  thus  assured.  She  e]q>]aiimi, 
"  You  see  there  is  a  bank  at  the  side,  and  we  get  in  the  barrels 
and  roll  down." 


Wading  is  a  favorite  form  of  play  during  this  period 
and  is  part  of  the  attraction  in  sailing  shells  and  chips  and 
toy  boats.  It  has  so  strong  and  otherwise  unaccountable  a 
hold  that  it  almost  seems  to  be  a  special  instinct.  For 
children  living  at  the  seashore,  with  all  its  resources,  wading 
pure  and  eaxoph  seons  rathw  an  unenterprising  occupation  ; 
but  for  city  diildren  the  impulse  is  profitably  recognised 
in  the  wading  pods  that  now  torn  a  part  of  many  play- 
grounds. 

TTie  Big  Injun  hungers  for  quiet  as  well  as  lively  play. 
He  is,  as  I  have  said,  fond  of  many  sedentary  forms  of  com- 
petition ;  and  he  is  at  least  as  strongly  posscned  <^  the  con- 
structive as  of  the  destructive  instinct,  and  will  appreciate 
all  kinds  of  opportunities  for  making  thk^pk  A  man  whom  I 


212  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

knew,  who  remained  a  good  deal  of  «  Big  Injun  aU  hig  Kfe 
j«|d  was  espedally  noted  as  a  fighter.  was^peciliarWo^d^ 
fautting  which  indeed  took  a  pla<«  with  him  only  second  to 
the  gentle  art  of  sdf^efense. 

vl^  'I  J.u'"""*^  8«»*  English  educator 

Edwaj^Thnng.thatthenervetissueofteach^ddr^^ 
be  called  upon  to  do  anything  that  wood  or  iron  can  accZ 
Ph^  Just  as  weU.  Apparatus  is,  accordingly,  of  great  vaC 
on  the  playground  or  in  the  back  yard  during  the Tg  Jntn 

to  use.   The  r  ving  IS  still  popukr  during  this  period  I 

n    il:  when  the  thermometer  was  in  the 

neighborhood  of  twenty  and  the  wind  was  driving  the  dust 
and  cinders  like  a  sandstorm  in  the  desert,  and  We  r^l 
found  an  empty  swing.  But  the  beHL  of  4e  s^ 
at  this  age  is  that  of  the  trapeze,  set  high  enough  for  a  iT^ 
-ng  under  It  with  his  legs  drawn  up.  and  low  enouK 
^  not  to  hm  himself  when  he  drops  off  into  properi J 
softened  ground  at  the  end  of  the  swing-and  with  a  S 
Platfonntostartfrom.  Such  a trape^^may beseeToi^ 
playgrounds  canying  a  different  boy  with  eveiy  swTh 

^i^nf  T-?''!"'^  j""P«-   Traveling  rin^ 

and  gmnt  strides  have  now  a  similar  fascination.  The  tik 
|s  an  ever  popular  piece  of  apparatus  and.  exalted  in  the  same 
manner  as  the  swing,  it  may  be  now  transUted  into  the  tS 
which  like  the  trapeze,  you  hang  u...^^:.^, 
^  on.  Teeter  adders  are  considered  by  many  play- 
mnnd  people  especially  dangerous,  but  I  have  not  found 
them  so  when  plac«l  low  enough  for  the  children  to  S 
whUe  standmg  on  the  gKmnd,  and  whew  the  gmund  i.^ 


CHASING*  CLOSBTSQ,  AND  FAILING  213 

soft  under  them.  Coasts  of  the  paraUel  pole  and  ceUar 
dwr  vaneties  have  already  been  spoken  cf.  And  there 
should  be  a  vaulting  horse,  and  a  sand  or  tanbark  phice  for 
tumbling. 

Apparatus  is  peculiarly  valuable  on  the  playground  as  a 
of  attracting  the  newcomer,  or  the  child  who  is  shy 
and  does  iH>t  yet  belong  to  any  particular  gang  or  is  i.ut  pro- 
ficient  at  the  prevailing  gan».  It  gives  him  something  to  do 
while  he  is  getting  acquabted. 

There  is  another  desire  that  apparatus  meets  of  which 
spe<^  m^ition  should  be  made  -  a  desire  characteristic  of 
the  Big  Iiyun  age.  and  accurately  corresponding  to  the  stage 
of  development  of  the  nen centers  and  the  muscles  and  other 
organs  during  this  period,  namely,  the  sheer  craving  to  ex- 
ploit  the  bodily  powers.   Nature's  call  to  the  child  to  come 
and  play  with  her  is  not  all  one  note,  but  a  chorus  of  many 
voices.  Not  only  do  mind  and  desire  turn  naturally  toward 
danng  physical  exploit,  but  the  muscles  hunger  to  put  forth 
their  strength,  the  heart  longs  to  be  used  to  its  capacity 
the  lungs  thirst  for  full  expansion.   The  nerves  also  tmrie 
m  anticipation  of  the  message  they  are  tuned  to  cany-  the 
very  bones  call  for  stress  and  strain. 

But  even  strenuous  exercise  of  nerve  or  muscle,  taken 
simply  as  such  and  without  external,  instinctively  attractive 
object,  IS  more  or  less  satisfying  accoiding  as  H  runs  aW 
instmctive  lines.  Thus  though  there  are  games  in  wM 
the  competition  is  chiefly  in  feats  of  bodily  control,  such  as 
jump  rope,  fancy  skating,  hop  scotch,  or  playing  poison 
(runmng  across  the  rocks  without  touching  sand  or  water), 
It  IS  still  true  that  in  all  of  these  the  motiwis  -  hopping 
skipping  jumping,  balancing -are  large  purposeful  mot^ 
of  the  whole  body,  not  isolated  contractions  of  one  membtt 


214  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

at  a  time,  and  that  in  no  game  that  holds  a  large  place 
are  the  feats  mere  contortioni  or  efforts  of  muscle  pure 
and  ample.  And  so  in  the  use  of  apparatus  it  is  the  large 
oombued  uses  of  the  musdes,  as  in  climbmg  and  swinging 
that  are  most  satisfying. 

The  organs  not  merely  hunger  for  use  but  have  in  them- 
selves a  bias  toward  the  particular  sort  of  use  the  major 
mstincts  caU  for.   I  read  the  other  day  of  a  man  who, 
having  been  abandoned  by  the  doctors  as  incurable  at  the 
age  of  fifty,  made  himself  weU  and  strong,  and  had  so  con- 
tmued  twenty  years  beyond  that  age,  by  means  of  a  set  of 
exercises,  taken  while  in  bed,  that  expressed  the  cravings  of 
his  body  for  ideal  motion.    I  do  not  know  how  much  of 
the  story  is  true  or  possible,  but  it  contains  a  truth.  There 
IS  for  eveiy  body  a  physical  ideal,  a  sort  of  divine  emanation, 
toward  which  it  tends,  and  in  the  expression  of  which  it 
rejoices  and  grows  strong.   And  this  bodily  ideal  closely 
corresponds  to  the  constituting  human  instincts,  through 
which  mdeed  it  has  been  largely  fashioned.    The  motions 
and  attitudes  required  in  running,  dodging,  fighting,  and 
wrestling  are  the  ones  the  body  most  hungers  for  — these 
and  others  expressive  of  the  social  instincts,  such  as  love, 
command,  submission.   Mars,  Diana,  Aphrodite.  Zeus,  still 
prescribe  the  ideals  of  the  human  form.   Hence  the  signifi- 
cance of  gesture,  the  wonderfjil  possibilities  of  bodily  ex- 
pression;  hence  one  main  element  in  "the  healthful  art  of 
dancing"  of  which  Dr.  Gulick  has  written  so  weU.  In 
Nature's  plan  of  life  and  growth  there  is  no  separation  of 
the  bodily  and  the  mental  side.   The  achievement  which 
instmct  craves  the  members  long  to  execute.   It  is  because 
organ  and  instinct  are  thus  attuned  that  wheu  the  soul's 
opiwrtunity  presents  itself,  the  whole  being  responds;  mind 
and  body  puU  aU  one  way. 


CHASING.  CLIMBING,  AND  PALLING  216 

It  diould  be  said,  m  concluding  this  description  of  the 
miscellan^us  play  impulses  of  the  Big  Injun  age.  that  at 
this  penod,  because  of  its  ertreine  individualism,  a  play 

leader  is  essential,  unless  among  a  group  for  whom  the 
element  of  leadership  is  already  supplied  by  a  strong  tradi- 
tion  of  good  games  transmitted  from  the  older  children    It  is 
undoubtedbr  well  that  children  should  teach  each'other, 
that  they  should  evolve  their  own  social  order,  and  to  some 
extent  mvent  their  own  games.   But  because  self-help 
IS  good  It  does  not  follow  that  we  should  trust  to  it  alto- 
gether.   The  process  is  apt  to  be  an  expensive  one  to  the 
neighbors;  and,  if  aUowed  to  drag  on  too  long,  it  may  be 
even  more  so  to  the  chUd  himself.   It  is  at  this  age  that 
batan  forms  his  most  extensive  business  connection  with 
Idle  hands ;  for  it  is  the  age  at  which  hands  feel  most  intensely 
their  vocation  to  be  doing  something  and  find  least  internal 

^  r^*'    *°  '^^^  P'^y  on  the 

other  hand,  if  he  remembers  that  his  function  is  to  abolish 
himself,  to  make  his  own  presence  unnecessaiy,  wiB  do  but 
little  harm  and  may  be  the  means  of  preventmg  fatal  mis- 
takes  and  the  waste  of  precious  time. 

People  sometimes  assume  that  the  amount  of  originality 
is  necessarily  in  inverse  proportion  to  the  amount  of  teaching 
I  believe  that  if  the  teaching  be  judicious,  the  opposite  is 
true.   Onginahty  works  not  in  a  vacuum,  but  upon  data 
presented  from  the  outside.   Learning  a  new  game  is  to  a 
chdd  not  a  debihtating  but  a  Hberating  experience,  opening 
up  new  opportunities  for  the  exercise  of  invention  The 
country  chfld  is  not  wedtened  but  set  free  when  his  parent 
or  teacher  points  out  the  riches  that  lie  around  him,  and  so 
unlocks  the  door  between  him  and  his  mother  Nature  with 
her  varied  storehouse  of  those  treasures  that  are  prophesied 
m  hu  mstmctive  interests,  and  in  contact  with  which  his 


216  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

fullest  development  ,v  found.  T?ie  scope  for  the  exploriiis  of 
new  regions  is  proportion.!,  not  to  the  degree  of  ignorJce, 
^^l^^l.^'  <»^trary,  t^ie  I.agth  of  the  frontier  already 
«toW«hedmtheinmd.  A  child  who  has  been  to  the  kinder- 
garten will  be  more  capable  of  inventing  games  than  one  who 
has  not  just  as  the  educated  man  is  not  less,  but  more,  re- 
sourceful  than  the  uneducated.  The  more  the  circle  widens, 
the  longer  its  circumference  becomes.   There  is  no  fence 

t-!?'''''^'  '^^^  advance. 

Provjded  children  are  left  in  their  actual  playing  as  much  as 
possible  to  themselves,  the  teaching  that  enables  them  to 
play  will  enlarge  the  scope  for  their  originality.  The  great 
national  games  are  a  most  important  part  of  our  inheritance, 
but  they  are  not  evolved  by  each  set  of  children;  they  arJ 
taught  by  one  set  to  another.  Where,  through  untoward 
cu-cumstances.  the  tradition  has  been  lost,  it  is  necessaiy 
that  the  inheritance  should  be  passed  on  through  outside 
channels,  lest  in  such  cases  child^ivilization  revert  to  the 

e^W^'lf  -ere 
evolvwl.  If  you  are  unwiUing  that  children  should  be 

taught  games,  you  ought  first  to  try  it  on  yom^.  For- 

swear  golf  and  tennis,  yachts  and  automobfles.  walt«8 

and  whist,  books,  pictures,  music,  and  the  theatre  and 

iment  your  own  games,  dances,  and  pbythings  for  your- 

As  a  matter  of  practical  experience,  the  opinion  of  those 
etfT.  ri  PJ*y««>und  work  is  unanimous  to  the 
effect  tha  leadership  on  a  playground  for  chUdren  between 
s«  and  eleven  years  old  is  a  necessity.  The  child  of  this 
penod  IS  not  a  finished  nor  an  independent  creature,  but  an 
mcomp  ete  and  partial  one.   The  elder  brother  or  leader  is 

his  imphedcomp  ement  It  is  the  case  erf  the  baby  and  the 
mothtt  over  a^un. 


CHASING.  CLIMBING,  AND  PALLING  217 

A  play  leader  costs  something,  it  is  true,  but  there  is 
danger  of  our  being  penny-wise  in  this  matter.  In  a  big 
city  especially,  where  the  playground  costs  many  thousands 
of  dollars.  It  IS  poor  economy  to  save  the  salaiy  of  a  man  or 
woman  who  could  more  than  treble  its  effectiveness. 


CHAPTER  XXVU 

WrarOBB  IN  THE  BIO  INJUN  AGE 

The  Big  Injun  age  is  the  time  for  makine  the  intJmo* 
iicquiunt^ce  of  bWs  «d  beasts,  for  seet^the  ho" 
and  the  cows  milked,  for  vlsifin.,  j  l    ,  """^^^^ 

buUdin,  their  „i„.e.  h„„JT:te:'^rXTSL^ 
wed«,  b.  covered  ,^  C^'j;;:,; 


NURTURE  IN  THE  BIG  INJUN  AGE  219 

creatures  to  a  sympathetic  study  of  their  ways  of  life.  I 
read  the  other  day  of  some  boys  who  were  going  to  kill  a 
spider,  but  who,  when  they  had  seen  him  set  afloat  on  a  chip 
and  watched  him  send  out  his  flying  rope  to  leeward  and 
climb  ashore  on  it,  greeted  him  with  three  cheers.  Even 
the  purely  scientific  interest,  where  living  things  are  the 
object  of  it,  in  the  end  means  sympathy,  for  that  is  the  only 
road  toward  hnportant  knowledge.  You  can  get  noise  out 
of  a  piano  by  merely  thumping  on  it,  but  to  get  its  story 
you  must  learn  to  play.  The  child  is  no  pedant ;  he  wants 
not  catalogues  of  facts  but  to  cuddle  up  next  the  Uving 
truth,  and  his  instinct  is  for  the  road  that  truly  leads  there. 

Apparent  cruelty,  indeed,  is  not  always  a  discouraging 
symptom.  It  taay  be  only  a  comcidence  that  several  of  the 
best  surgeons  of  my  acquamtance  have  abo  been  notable 
as  sportsmen:  but  barring  the  inevitable  joke,  there  is  in 
the  two  pursuits  the  common  element  of  a  thirst  for  close  con- 
tact with  Uving  things.   I  am  sure  that,  to  take  an  analogous 
phenomenon,  teasmg  —  which  is  such  a  common  manifesta- 
tion of  the  Big  Injun  age  -  is  by  no  means  a  bad  sign.  The 
mability  to  keep  hands  off  and  let  the  other  chiM  akme,  the 
necessity  to  push  and  pinch  and  tease,  betrays  an  irre- 
sistible interest  in  the  subject  matter  of  affection;  and  it  is 
often  the  teasing  child  who  b  most  affectionate. 

But  curiosity  is  not  the  only  Instinct  that  draws  life 
toward  life.  Pulling  in  the  same  durection  there  is  the  m- 
stmct  to  foster  and  protect.  Boys  and  girls  want  not  only 
to  find  out  about  birds  and  animals  and  small  children,  but 
to  take  care  of  them ;  and  the  latter  instinct  wiU  become  in 
the  case  of  any  creature  they  have  much  dealing  with  the 
more  mtense.  What  is  now  at  work  in  them  b  another  of 
the  great  streams  of  bemg,  the  great  maternal  insttnet  of 
the  race,  —  the  instmct  to  foster  life,  to  care  for  the  yomf, 


W>  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

the  we.k,  .„d  th.  unprotwted;  ori^bMy.  ud  .tiU  dwv. 
«     heart,  the  mother  instinct -T^t^ iTrf 

Sifter   'r "'•^  - 

UK  iMke.  duUkood  possible,  that  has  led  mothers  th«>u<rl. 

continue  to  nuke  audi  aa^M<«      -  i  '^o"  wui 

survives.  the  rule  so  long  as  our  race 

Jl  ^Tu  ""during  instinct 

«ut  the  stress  of  the  impulse  and  the  bent  of  the  chUd's 
nature  to  receive  ,t  comes  at  this  later  tone. 

prts  as  women  are  when  other  objects  of  affection  are  lack- 

waiting  with  his  compamons  m  a  railroul  station,  carrvinir 

«lt  L  '"^^'"^^  orange^lored  cat  wSh^'e^o^ 
c^son  bow    None  of  the  others  seemed  to  see^^, 

to  pet  birds  and  cats  and  other  mascots  is  as  strong  ai^on" 
saUors  as  among  old  maids.  Both  are  cases  oTa  s^vS 
rTaL  :"'r-       '^-"^-wn  that  the  SeL^li 

Ch  1  Cant-  "^"^  priso^Ev^ 

hn!^  °H  5^^P^»«  speaks  with  tenderness  of  the 

Boston  spider  who  shared  his  adventurous  voyage  •  and  w! 
a  l  know  that,  through  sympathetic  observation'  t  Z 
national  hero,  a  spider  wove  an  important  piece  of  Scottish 
h^W'xLc'^  touch  of  Tolstoi's  genius' hat  m^"S 

wei  grass  m  the  midst  of  a  huntmg  trip,  love  even  the  «»« 
pamonship  of  tiie  mosquitoes.  P' ^o^e  even  the  com- 

And  maternal  feeling  in  the  male  of  our  race  is  notiiing 


NURTURE  IN  THE  BIG  INJUN  AGE  221 

new.   I  have  already  cited  the  case  of  certain  races  of 
monkeys  among  whom  the  male  gives  suck  to  the  young. 
As  fflustrating  the  quaUty  in  its  heroic  aspect,  Darwin  quotes 
a  stoiy  of  the  rescue  of  a  small  monkey  by  one  of  the  male 
members  of  his  tribe.   The  monkey  people  had  just  crossed 
a  ravme,  somewhere  in  Australia  I  think,  when  a  naturalists' 
exploring  party  came  along.   The  explorers'  dogs  attacked 
the  rear  of  the  procession  and  had  succeeded  in  cutting  out  a 
smaU  monkey  and  isokting  him  on  the  top  of  a  bowlder  so 
that  he  could  not  get  away,  when  a  large  male,  seemg  his 
predicament,  returned  down  the  hiU  and  by  his  fierce  kwks 
frightened  the  dogs  away  and  rescued  the  little  monkey. 
Darwm  adds  that  he  would  rather  trace  his  ancestry  from 
that  herc^  mimkey  than  from  many  humans. 

The  nurture  mstinct  m  mankind,  though  strictly  maternal 
at  the  start,  has  broadened  to  an  impulse  to  foetw  all  life, 
and  has  appeared  in  a  thousand  forms  and  a  great  variety 
of  rektions.   It  is  often  a  strong  element  in  the  love  of  a 
man  for  a  woman,  and  is  perhaps  always  present  in  the 
converse  relation.  Stevenson  says  that  the  best  examples 
he  has  known  of  the  maternal  instinct  have  been  m  the  case 
of  old  maids.    It  is  often  seen  in  the  feeling  of  chUdren  toward 
th-ir  parents,  of  friend  toward  friend,  and  is  indeed  an 
ingredient  in  all  human  affection  and  in  all  desire  to  foster 
life,  whether  in  human  beings  or  m  plants  or  animals.  The 
common  association  of  the  diminutive  with  affection  shows 
Its  wide  spread.   Everything  you  fove  as  a  living  thmg  is  to 
'in  ;  extent  your  own  baby. 

The  mother  instinct  is  the  heart  of  altruiam  and  its  carry- 
mg  force.  Even  true  imagination  of  anotiier  life  would  re- 
main cold  did  not  knowledge  bring  with  itself  the  desire  to 
foster.  The  humanituian  movement  of  the  last  century  — 
the  protection  of  women  and  chiUien  against  k>ng  hours 


«  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

•nd  ovenrork;  the  emancipation  ol  wi««.  tli«  debtor 
of  the  slave ;  charity  organization    the  niav«B«t  tor  to^ 

"T*    .f^T^    «  movement  and  were  in  themsei  vh^ 
no  inconsiderable  part  of  it,  was  .  ^  Jl^^^^ 
r^^ter  fnnaru,.    As  one  of  the  g.  ,.^  odueatioJl^ 
ihe^tury,  he  voiced  th.  n.other  of  iSSLrf 

toward  iMT  tortumJ  and  neglected  chil.ir 
It  18  the  Bwturing  impuJ.  that  is  idealized  a.  the  1 
nd  higher  fonn«  of  reUgio«,  i»  the  ««ceptu,n  ol  M  as  I 

lair T 1.  ti^  "^'^     -»>^-  to 

TJ^L^""  to  succor  all  life,  first  in  their  -STe 
n^e«o  our  modem  wodi;       «  the  MoA.  fc«  ^ 


O  ^iMfcui,  lerusalem,  ...  how  often  woulr 
jathert^d  thy  together,. even  as 


f  h. 


humamtanan  movement  and  in  the  reBgkm.  n,,,,  1  !f  7 

PM«»  perhaps  also  a  general  .  -  -h.  tk  v  " 
Bfe  irf  a  love  of  aU  Kvi„g  thing..    .  .    ■       t^^f  " 

It  is  a  sufficient  eason  for  givir,    he  nurt  ^ 
Its  day.  m  which  u  mak.  .  nurtur.    *or  life  of 
fortunate  e«>«ght»  be  possessed  hv  it  T    !  "^^^ 

if  we  ««st  hav^^^i^  But 
— w  MB  seeenttry  i^asmis  to  justify  a 


Ni'Kt-UKB  IN  TfflE  BIO  INJUN  AGE  228 

course  i    edui  ation,  it  is  well  to  remember  that  nurture  is 
uue  uf  the  practically  in.  spensable  faculties  of  man.  If 
mcukm  should  ever  kck  dxe  ability  effectively  to  express 
I     instmct,  the  raee  would  not  survhre.  Babies  do  not 
!iv  e  on  milk  atone,  but  chiefly  on  their  Bwthetf*  oooiiideii^, 
/md  the  same  power  of  expression  in  fathen  b  almoat  ttpuMy 
ea  .ary  to  their  health  and  ,  -owth. 
Anf/  pom^     expression  of  the  nurturing  instinct  ia  neces- 
swy  b  o^r  wmyt.  It  is  at  the  bottom  of  all  sM  iessful 
H  i         s»    ursing,  as  we  are  bewailing  to  understand,  ii 
tl       -er  1     of  medicine.   It  is  he  nurture  instinct  that 
^  P!      t\       men  of  intuition  in  gardening  and  f»rmifaf 
•»  '  ing.     uccessful  farmers  say  that  cows  am 

'''osfeive  ti>  dad  or  ough  treatment  and  that  the  ledger 
the  difference.  Nobody  can  tndn  a  hone,  wlMkr 
)  race  or  pull  a  cart,  who  lacks  his  faculty.   And  aobo^^ 
an  deal  successfully  with  human  bebgs  m  any  relation  of 
control  who  has  not  got  it.    I  '  r,     a  business  office  which 
ha»  for  a  generation  been  a  kii       arten  for  aspiring  youth, 
»  man  item  m  the  firm's  suoce^     ^  been  the  maternal 
luafity  of  its  head.   Managers      ^  %  and  factwlu  am 
aming  rapidly,  if  somewhat  late,        i  desire  to  promote 
the  successful  life  of  their  workers,  and  insight  into  how  to 
**  offense,  is  essential  to  their  own  success.  And 

the  fiercer  the  competition  the  more  clearly  important  is 
such  application  of  the  maternal  matinct  Many  great 
soldiers  have  h^n  known  as  Father  —  or  even  Ok!  Ifbtber 

—  So  and  So.   The  same  is  true  of  succes  sful  ci^ytami  

whetiier  of  ships  or  footbaU  teams.   Father  Abraham  won 
out  very  largely  on  the  maternal  quality  of  his  great  heart 
In  his  play  <rf  "  Man  and  Superman,"  Bernard  Shaw  has 
humorously  presented  the  selfiiefpetaat&ig  instinct  of  the 
race*  as  embodied  m  a  wonan,  ovetooming  the  indivkhial 


22*  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

ambitions  of  a  man  and  appropriating  hhn  to  its  own  no,. 

iM^thl  inH^-^    f  does  not  fight 

1  mol^b  ST*  '"^  •  ^  -t  something  of 

in  what  has  bJT^r  L      .  "  P^^'^  '"^icated 

m  wnat  Has  been  said  above  of  the  tendency  of  knowledire 
to  blossom  automaticaUy  mto  love  -  crueltv  in  S 

dn.ti.ih,  t        ■  ,         °™  mottar  instinct  may  inri. 
dentaUy  be  acquired  from  the  ezamnk  of  dl  dJT  l  • 
httle  mothers  of  the  «,im.l  wo^Ture  stL^TjS^fc! 

-be  .am,  i.o„shrre.:j:r,:^"r^.'^ 

But  mumacy  should  not  be  merely  intdLtud.  1*. 
B«hjm..g.isU.eageofpets.   Dolls'^  "n^tj^ 

«»ec^t„u£lJn31,.?'T  '■"^ 
He  8ho..u  "7'?"*'f"">'>n«"only«  turtle  or  a  mouse 
ne  sliould  also  have  phnts  to  look  afbr  >»l  -m 

"ope,  w  ccme  to  some  tracic  end  •  nnri  • 
children  the  fulfert  !  •  '     7  to 

"ot  be  «,uee«d  or  handled  to  advwitMe.  Ahoweorpony 


NURTURE  IN  THE  BIG  INJUN  AGE  225 


is  a  good  sort  of  pet  if  you  have  the  bank  notes  to  feed  him 
on.  And  if  he  has  Morgan  blood,  with  its  sensitive  nose,  its 
broad  forehead  to  understand,  its  quick  ear  for  every  shade 
of  meaning,  and  its  memory  of  the  old  days  on  the  desert 
when  it  was  the  confidant  of  its  Arab  master  and  his  family, 
a  horse  will  do  very  well  indeed  —  nobody,  man  or  child, 
can  well  have  a  more  sympathetic  or  a  nobler  companion. 
But  even  a  Morgan  horse  —  glad  as  he  would  be  to  share 
our  tent  —  will  find  himself  out  of  place  in  the  modem  fist 
A  similar  inconvenience  attends  the  friendship  of  calves  and 
goats  and  all  the  larger  mammals.  The  appeal  is  there, 
however,  where  the  physical  conditions  can  be  managed. 
The  boys  in  our  Massachusetts  reform  school,  I  am  told,  are 
never  rough  to  a  cow. 

A  kitten  or  a  dog  makes  the  best  companion  for  a  funall 
child  because  in  the  first  place  it  can  live  indoors,  be  with 
him  whenever  he  needs  companionship,  and  take  part  m  all 
fMnily  occasions.  And  these  creatures  seem  to  get  so  much 
out  <rf  it  themsdves  that  there  springs  up  the  reciprocity  of 
relation  without  whk^  there  cannot  be  true  ftmKhhq). 
Children  and  animab  seem  natural  comrades,  ami  enOy 
establish  a  freemasonry  from  which  older  humans  are  ex- 
cluded. There  is  nothing  a  dog  will  not  put  up  with  from 
the  younger  members  of  the  family,  however  stand-offish 
he  may  be  with  cMer  pet^le.  An  c3d  retainer  wIk»  wiB  be 
only  pdUtely  bored  by  the  attentbns  oi  grown-ups,  and  wiU 
resent  any  familiarity  from  strangers,  will  let  the  chOdren 
roll  him  over,  pull  his  tail,  and  throttle  hun  to  their  hearts' 
content,  and  evidently  enjoy  the  process.  He  seems  to 
remember  that  he  was  himsdf  a  puppy  once  and  to  take  a 
benign  pleasure  in  seemg  the  happbueu  ci  the  ymmg  folka 
k  id  contributing  to  it. 
A  kitten  is  ahnost  equally  tolerant,  because  Idttois 


mv  IN  EDUCATION 
not  i«t  «^te"  oTtr  'i?'  '"^  that  he  fa 

doesrtit;,;'i"t:^  "H^f 

™«cle  of  personal  -To^e  if  he  i   T"  *"  * 
mean  K..* -I  "      ^  "oble,  mean  if  hew 

though  tho„»„d  "rg:^":"'^^.^™  '™<>- 

the  «>eial  trwnu.,,  of  Se  H  ^  ^  •»«*>«.  Indeed 
beo.  more  thore^h Iht     f  ?  »«»  to  h,™ 

'o^th.-rir;::^^".!^^^^^  At.a.v«t.h.. 

place,  the  world  o^T  P"""  ""i 

"ller  than  ""^ 
responsibility  of  thfa  aor^.!r^^'{  ■»'«=<' 


NURTURE  IN  THE  BIO  INJUN  AGE  227 

lieved  of  those  elementary  tasks  through  which  the  race 
has  risen  from  its  former  low  estate  is  to  be  deprived  of  the 
best  part  of  one's  birthright  Any  small  girl  will  love  a 
baby  she  has  a  part  in  taking  care  of;  and  little  boys  are 
not  very  different  from  little  girls  in  this  respect,  —  the 
toughest  ones  being,  as  T  have  said,  in  my  *«pff^CT.^  the 
most  tender  toward  small  children. 

Our  schools  also  should  provide  for  the  exercise  of  this 
instinct,  not  only  through  home  and  school  gardens,  and  pets 
where  that  is  possible,  but  by  giving  the  bigger  boys  and 
girls  some  responsibility  for  the  leadership  and  protection 
of  the  younger  ones,  both  in  the  mass  and  in  individual 
cases  especially  assigned.  Readers  of  the  best  boy's  book 
evw  writtrai  will  remonbcr  that  ih»  turning  pomt  in  the  life 
of  Tom  Brown  was  when  he  was  given  a  smaller  hoy  to  kdc 
after.  Throwing  a  boot  at  the  head  of  a  boy  who  under- 
took to  bully  his  young  charge  was  only  the  begmning  of  a 
sense  of  protectorship  which,  although  its  expression  could 
not  ahvays  be«s  exhilarating  as  in  this  first  instance,  slowly 
but  surely  made  a  man  ci  him. 

Life  is  self-perpetuating  m  more  ways  than  one.  Sub- 
ordination to  an  end  outside  one's  self,  the  open  door  to  the 
vital  forces  both  physical  and  spiritual,  is  best  attainable  to 
many  people  through  service  to  other  lives,  and  by  all 
people  largely  in  that  way.  Let  us  see  that  this  door  is 
opened  to  all  our  childreB.  BIsssed  are  the  nurturary,  for 
they  shall  grow. 


CHAPTER  XXVni 

CBHa  OS  SPORT? 

Ik  «  story  in  the  Christmas  McClure  of  1901.  a  boy  brouriit 
before  the  pohce  court  in  Chicago  says,  ii  answeTto  a 
question  from  the  state's  attorney:  - 

" '  ^l':  t ;  '       ^"^^  "  Kansas  City  two  years  airo 

witA  I II  bet  there  azn't  a  man  in  this  court  room  that 
am  stole  melons  when  he  was  a  boy.  Didn't^^  evL 
steal  a  melon,  your  honor?'  i  you  ever 

"eii.  1  know  you  did  too    An'  j:j 

I  wonder  how  m.ny  rf  ,ny  «^  ,„„u 
of  the  pohce  court  h«i  .n  a,eir  dou«.  b««».  ^ 
the  authormes.   I  am  sure  I  never  knew  a  boy 

the  n™  who,  upon  th.  whole,  of  those  whom  I  ia«  1 

rit^^ir^asthSThr^-^^^ 

the  fowl  u,  <,u«,ttt,a.  Th.  affair  w,.  ddllfuUy  n,^^ 

228 


CRIME  OR  SPORT? 


3» 


other  put  the  hen  under  his  coat  and  ran.  It  was  a  neighbor 
in  this  case,  but  it  is  generally,  I  suppose,  a  grandmother. 
It  requires  less  moral  courage  to  rob  one's  gnuKfanothor  than 
to  rob  a  stranger,  and  on  the  whole  seems  to  be  more  m 
accordance  with  the  law  of  nature.  The  neighbor  provides 
an  advance  and  elective  course ;  the  grandmother  is  a  part 
of  the  ordinary  curriculum.  And  one  thing  we  should  re- 
member about  the  city  boy  is  that  he  doesn't  have  a  grand- 
motht  .*;  that  is  to  say,  his  grandmoth»  does  not  have 
greenhouses  or  cherry  trees  or  a  pear  orchard,  or  even,  as  a 
rule,  a  barrel  of  apples.  She  therefore  does  not  provide 
him  with  the  facilities  appropriate  to  the  exercise  of  his 
predatory  mstinct :  he  has  perforce  to  look  elsewhere.  And 
it  is  for  us  to  dedde  whsn  he  u  to  look.  We  cannot  y&y 
well  provide  him  with  a  grandmotho*;  but  in  her  absmoe  a 
playground  with  opportunity  to  work  off  his  superfluous 
energy,  and  above  all  to  satisfy  his  thirst  for  daring  exploit^ 
is  the  most  effective  substitute. 

Do  not  Ut  us  imagme  that  we  are  going  sunply  to  eliminate 
the  ptedaUay  instinct   It  is  an  integral  part  <^  the  etoml 
boy  and  cannot  be  removed  without  causing  the  death  ci 
the  patient,  or  at  least  of  the  best  part  of  him.   It  is  not 
confined  to  any  particular  condition  or  climate.   One  day  in 
Venice,  on  the  piazza  San  Giovanni  e  Paolo,  where  the  Col- 
letmi  stands  —  fit  patron  saint  ci  the  Big  Injun  at  all  time 
—  I  saw  a  crowd  of  seven  or  eight  boys  come  niddoi^ 
running  across  a  bridge,  and  swoop  down  to  where  there  woe 
some  pigeons  feeding,  in  a  formation  like  what  military  men 
call  "en  echelon,"  reminding  one  of  an  end  play  in  football. 
The  first  boy  ran  by  the  pigeons,  leaving  them  on  his  left, 
and  had  the  effect  of  startii^  than  up  in  about  the  same 
direction  as  he  was  going.   The  next  boy  came  a  little 
behind  and  a  little  to  the  left  <^  the  first  one,  and  eadi  of  the 


230  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION  ^ 

othe„  followed  in  the  s«ne  rdative  position.  One  of  the 
last  boys,  coming  exactly  in  the  track  of  the  pigeons  nut 
out  h.s  hand  and  grabbed  one  before  it  could  l^ZU^ 
^jatucked  it  under  his  coat;  and  the  whole  ^wTl^ 
*^        unconscious  that  there  were  any 
Pig^ns  m  ti».wo*|.   The  pigeons  in  Venice  are,  I  believe 
stnc^y  preieeted  by  the  kw.   Ti,,  performance,  It  ali 
events  was  a  remarkah.e  instHiee  of  the  development  of 
W  play  under  difficu«i,  s,  as  well  as  of  the  present-day 
^ng  of  ^e  predatoiy  instinct  in  the  descendants  of  the 
■■seers  OT  tae  Adnatic. 

Or,  to  take  an  instance  of  an  even  a«e  heroic  kind,  I 
read  one  day  of  some  boys  who.  having  first  tafaa  ^  aece*. 
sary  steps  to  sp.ure  the  interest  of  the  police,  went  up  into 
an  empty  house,  climbed  out  through  a  sk>  light,  slid  down 
a  state  roof  to  a  gutter  hanging  sixty  feet  above  a  brick- 
paved  alUgr,  crowed  the  aDey  by  a  tin  pipe  on  which  the 
pohcemen  were  afraid  to  follow,  went  hand  over  hand  along 
the  gutter  of  the  opposite  building,  swung  themselves  i^ 
feet  formost,  through  a  window,  and  so  out  upon  another 
roof.   The  thing  was  a  great  success.   They  were  only 
taught  by  the  pohcemen  and  fire  department  surrounding 
«ie  block  and  gradually  searching  them  out  Now  what 
would  the  feeling  of  the  ordinary  boy  be  in  «»di„g  about 
that  exploit?   Would  he  feel  "What  bad  boys  they  weiTto 
have  Stolen  the  bananas"  -  or  broken  Mr.  Crump's  windows 
^  whatever  dsert  was  they  did  -  and  thank  heaven  that  he 
not  a;  th,y  or  wouM  he  secretly  admire  their 

exp  o,t  and  hope  he  had  the  courage  to  do  likewise? 

Nor  IS  the  predatory  instinct  confined  to  boyhood.  Youn« 
men  m  coU^  have  been  known  to  -  not  to  steal,  of  course^ 
^^conv^,  Ae  wise  it  call," -but  to  "pinch,"  "swipe,"' 
M«  «»w»«««»us  articfcs  that  did  not  bdong  to  thm 


CRIME  OR  SPORT? 


231 


As  the  president  of  a  neighboring  institution  has  lately 
pointed  out.  "A  wicked  generation  seeketh  after  a  sign."  I 
remember  that  even  the  escutcheon  over  the  awful  abode  (rf 
the  appointed  guardians  of  the  law  was  spirited  away  one 
night,  and  ne'er  seen  more  save  perb^-  ,  hy  members  of 
some  such  organization  as  that  which        .tly  displayed  a 
skeleton  at  the  top  of  the  Cambridge    ^gpole.   And  I 
reinember  that  when  I  was  in  college  —  but,  coming  to  think 
of  it,  there  is  no  statute  of  limitations  against  prosecution 
for  what  the  law,  lacking  as  it  is  in  the  sense  of  humor,  is 
pleased  to  call  the  "crime"  of  breaking  and  entering,  and  I 
do  not  wish  to  be  called  as  a  witness.   These  be  simple 
'scapes.  My  readers  may  doubtless  remember  others  of 
more  importance;  and  we  all,  I  think,  can  with  an  effort 
bring  back  to  our  minds,  as  if  it  were  a  di«am  or  an  echo 
from  a  previous  state  of  existence,  a  time  in  which  petty 
larceny  and  planning  for  the  same  lent  an  air  of  ramance 
and  mystery  to  our  simplest  acts. 

Grown-up  people,  with  their  decadent  industrial  ideals, 
are  apt  to  suppose  that  thieving,  even  among  the  young,  is 
undertaken  as  a  business  oitoprise.  Undoubtedly  it  does 
become  a  business  in  some  cases,  but  I  believe  that  it  is 
rarely  first  gone  into  with  any  such  practical  idea.  Hear 
this  from  St,  Augustine,  an  accurate  reporter,  of  the  eternal 
boy  as  he  manifested  hunseif  in  Carthage  fifteen  centuries 
ago :  "A  pear  tree  there  was  near  our  vin^ud,  ladoi  with 
fruit,  tempting  neither  for  color  nor  taste.  To  shake  and 
rob  this,  some  lewd  young  fellows  of  us  went,  late  one  night 
(having  according  to  our  pestilent  custom  prolonged  our 
^wrts  in  the  streets  till  then),  and  took  huge  loads,  not  for 
our  eating,  but  to  fling  to  the  very  hogs,  having  only  tasted 
them.  And  this  hut  to  do  what  we  liked  only,  because  it 
was  misliked."  And  of  this  escapade  the  saint  tella  ui: 


282  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

"I  lusted  to  thieve,  and  did  it.  compelled  by  no  hunger  nor 
po^rty.  but  through  a  cloyedness  o>  welWoing  and T^a^ 
P^«s  of  miquity.  For  I  stole  that  of  which  I  had  enough 
and  much  better.  Nor  cared!  to  enjoy  what  I  stole,  but 

later,  For  ,f  aught  of  those  pears  came  within  my  mouth 
what  sweetened  it  was  the  sin."  and  again,  "It  was  the 
which,  as  it  wer«.  tickled  our  hearts  "      "  *^ 

nril^nr' '  u""  ^  ''^  exemplified  the  same  famUiar 

pr  ncple.  He  was  a  very  daring  boy  on  the  playground, 
but  when  he  went  to  work  and  could  no  longer  perfonn  Ws 
^vonte  stunts  on  the  apparatus,  he  evidentTy  ^""th^ 
outlet  At  aU  events  he  was  arrested  withm  a  year  for 
stealmg  a  com»d«»ble  mount  of  property  from  the  church 

emplo>  ed.  How  much  commercial  instinct  there  was  in  the 
^ansaction  was  indicated  by  the  fact  that  he  sold  the  entire 

as^  J.'if.VT'"'*'  l«wbreaking  has  to  oo  with  destitution 
SeTnTr  /f  «^  »  indicated  by  the  fact  that 

the  arrests  of  boys  under  fifteen  are  ab«t  twice  as  many  in 
summer  as  m  wmter.  while  destitution  is  about  toTZ^^ 
greater  m  wmter  than  it  is  in  stmamer.   The  same,  however 

by!;^;rtt " ' 

The  reader  niay  by  this  time  be  puzzled  to  know  why  I 
am  so  anxious  to  make  it  out  that  all  boys  are  criminL 

"°  '"f  ^  trying  to  prove  is 

mdeed  precjsely  the  opposite.  My  thesis  i  Lt  hoTs  a^ 
no  crmimals,  and  that  the  fact  of  their  committing  what  7e 
call  erm.es  xs  no  evidence  of  their  being  such.  EviSL^ 
whch  seems  to  show  that  every  boy  is  •  cLiS^on^ 


CRIME  OR  SPORT? 


388 


in  reality,  that  there  is  aomethmg  wrong  in  our  definition  of 
the  term,  because  we  aU  know  that  such  a  oondusioii  is 

absurd. 

Neither  am  I  trying  to  show  that  our  penal  laws  are 
wrong.   In  a  civilized  community  law  and  order  must  be 
upheld.  Life  could  not  go  on  if  no  man's  property  were 
safe  from  wanton  injury  and  depredation.  Nor  would  it 
be  any  kindness  to  the  boy  to  let  him  grow  up  with  ideas 
and  habits  incompatible  with  the  existence  of  those  institu- 
tions among  which  he  has  got  to  live.    Boyhood  is  par 
excellence  the  time  for  learning :  it  is  the  time  during  which, 
if  ever,  outer  conditbns  must  unpress  themselves  upon  the 
mind.   If  the  boy  does  not  learn  the  existence  and  solidity 
of  social  institutions  now,  when  he  is  a  boy,  he  never  wiB. 
There  is  no  use  in  pretending  that  property  rights  are  matters 
of  indifference,  or  that  our  pear  orchard  is  his  pear  orchard 
if  he  chooses  to  regard  it  so.   The  awakening  would  come 
some  day  just  the  same  —  only  it  would  come  too  late.  I 
am  not,  therefore,  s«ying  that  there  should  be  a  feeble  or 
apologetic  enforcement  of  property  and  other  rights  as 
agamst  the  boy's  impulse  to  infringe.   It  may  be  true  that 
in  some  matters  our  law  is  too  harsh  —  it  may  be,  for  in- 
stance, that  lead  pipe  which  the  owner  chooses  to  abandon 
m  a  house  with  broken  doors  and  windows,  as  a  tempUtion 
to  every  poor  boy  in  the  neighborhood,  ought  to  be  put  on 
the  free  list  —  but  in  general  our  law,  or  its  administration, 
IS  as  apt  to  err  in  the  direction  of  leniency  as  upon  the  op- 
posite side. 

What  I  do  mamtam  is  that,  although  we  find  it  necessarv- 
to  uphold  the  law  of  the  grown-up  world  as  against  tLw 

boy's  attempts  to  override  it,  we  should  at  the  same  time 
remember  that  the  boy's  law  is  a  natural  law  to  him,  and 
that,  whatever  else  he  is,  he  is  not  a  criminal  for  obeying  it 


PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


There  is  to  a  certab  extent  an  irrepressible  conflict  between 
our  modern  industrial  civilization  and  the  earlier,  barbaric 
and  predatory  society  to  which  the  boy  naturally  belongs. 
Our  tMk  ii  prinmrily  not  repression,  but  guidance:  not 
puniiliment,  but  teedung. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 


A  CONIUCT  or  IDKAUl 

To  tetch  we  must  first  understand.   We  must  search  our 
way  back  from  that  manifestatioii  of  the  eternal  boy  which 
is  disagreeable  to  us  untfl  we  find  its  source  in  his  nature- 
understand  just  what  it  represents  to  him.    I  believe  we 
shall  then  3ee  that,  like  all  primal  human  tendencies,  the 
original  impulse  that  produces  lawlessness  is  good  and  not 
evil.   Certainly  it  is  not  a  kwless  impulse.    It  is  as  far  as 
possible  from  bebg  that  What  drives  the  boy  to  the 
breakmg  of  our  law  is  precisely  the  best  thing  in  him,  his 
very  self  and  conscience.   His  criminality  under  our  statute 
is  obedience  to  a  law  that  is  in  him  by  a  higher  authority 
than  ours,  a  kw  that  is  of  the  essence  of  his  bemg,  that 
exfated  a  thousand  centuries  before  St  Augustine  and  will 
contmue  m  effect  so  long  as  there  are  boys  on  this  earth. 
It  is  not  a  perverted  or  a  degenerate  unpulse  that  makes  a 
boy  commit  these  acts  of  daring  lawlessness.   It  is,  on  the 
contrary,  a  virtue,  universally  recognized  as  such  m  the  boy 
worid,  and  that  was  equally  recognized  in  the  grown-up 
world  until  withm  a  very  reo«it  period. 

The  especial  form  of  the  law  which  the  Big  Injun  is  obey- 
ing in  his  lawbreaking  our  study  of  his  games  has  largely 
shown.  Partly  it  is  the  law  of  hunting  or  escape:  the 
PtwmA  w«d  e$eapade  is  founded  on  a  true  psychology. 

A  favorite  stoiy  of  I%iDq»  Brooks  —  although  I  am  not 
sure  that  it  ought  to  be  cited  in  coM  print  —  was  of  a  — ^fl 
boy  whom  he  saw  standing  on  tiptoe  attonpting  to  ring  the 

236 


23a  pi^y  IN  EDUCATION 

.loorbcll  of.  city  IjOM..  1  O,  t.  hugin.  Uie  chad  «  . 

.tarry  rye,,  long  d.rk  la,h«,  .„d  golden  curk    M,.  B«X 

pulfed  the  bdl.  ud  then,  turning  to  the  lx.y,  .,ked,  "And 
now  wh,t  h.ve  w,  got  to  dor-  to  which  the  boy  w^wemd 
".Now  run  like  hell  !••  Of  »».  th.  JtS^W,! 
n  secunng  a,  h«  .,«,mplice  the  most  dbtinguishrf  p««J 
m  the  New  World  ™s  more  than  he  had  any  right  ta^^ 

^  ''".r^  P*»>«.  "d  what  aroused  the  evident 
^™p.U.y  w.th  which  Mr.  B«K*.  told  th.  .tory,  i,  th«  i 
w«.  not  properly  an  instinct  for  mere  tloMmmntm 
w«  at  the  bottom  of  the  whole  perform^-orTTy  « 
«*l^»n«)y  uiterested  in  the  discomfort  he  was  giving  hto 

tl^H:  ^i^"       "'"^        •""^"k"  pleasing  re«,it" 
eslr'        Pf »"  »         wM.  to  approprLt.  m.^ 

mg  ^  ^    Tag  ,s  a  good  game  in  any  case,  but  h  »  mow 
a  spcrtjng  event  when  the  avenger  „r  th^  outnJ^^ 

merely  from  tb.  /«*  that  he  i,  "it"  Lawbreakini  in 
^..ch  mstance,  is  «Bply  .        ^fc^c  ,^  JTZZ 

and  universal  game.  •"wcui 

th^tl  «"dr^*„r"''-^ 

.k:  <">«•  >"  mwiy  unpleasant  and  mconven- 

>o  when  the  higher  mterest.  require  it  No,  m  even  the 
otecT'Z''''"'  """"  'k"^ 

<™iue  »  oM  a.  thenadvei  but  as  testimonials  to  the  reaHty 
«'tk.«^tb«.dWth««  forth.  AaitisthelHi 


A  CONFUCT  OF  IDBAI8 


noise  that  is  most  convmcing,  so  also  is  ^he  most  troublesOTie 
effect.  Trouble  conferred,  indeed,  b  an  especially  convenient 
mcanmor  tchievcoieiit,  lecuring  u  it  does  the  testimony  of 
wknesMs  the  moit  advme  to  the  Mtuality  of  the  thUif 

accomplkhed;  but  it  k  not  in  Hielf  an  apeokOy  fanportent 

end. 

Sometimes  kwbreaking  is  a  form  of  I  spy,  being  based 
upon  the  instinct  <^  foray,  as  in  raids  on  groceries  or  pear 
oidMnb.  Sometimes  it  livdb  footbdl  as  a  reprodiietioa  ol 
tr3)al  war,  as  in  battles  of  neighboring  g»ng^  Largdy, 

as  has  been  already  suggested,  it  expresses  the  instbct  of 
curiosity,  which  urges  the  mquinng  mind  to  experiment 
upon  our  statutes  and  prohibitions  to  see  which  of  them 
ring  true  and  which  are  sham. 


But  the  foroi  of  the  unpulse  that  underlies  the  child's 
lawbreaking  is  not  so  important  to  us  as  its  essence.  And 
in  consideriiig  its  essence,  it  has  to  be  admitted  that,  although 
the  knpi'L>>  ttmSt  is  as  far  as  possible  from  being  Uwless  in 
thetruesr.  '  thhoitglik  is  aatiMuticlaw  to  him,  proceeding 
from  tht  .  It';  .ri;<itive  source  of  all  morality  m  his  own 
conscience*.  ,  here  are  within  it  teT  d'  ncies  definitely  op- 
posed to  the  observance  of  our  g  vr  u:,  dtutes,  and  in  a 
sense  to  all  eict«rnal  laws  and  regulai  ..u^  whatsoever. 

In  tin  int  plaoe  the  duld  bas  a  oertab  Mgative  tendency 
to  lawlessness.   Au  important  .^ource  of  his  lawbreaking 

b  the  absences  or  rudimentary  development,  in  him  <rf 
certain  of  the  iiicas  that  control  the  morality  of  grown-up 
people.  The  industrial  and  civilized  virtues  have  not  yet 
tecdved  thdr  growth.  Tl»  impwtance  of  property  rights 
in  especial,  as  applying  to  the  coouDunity  at  targe,  have 
not  yet  been  brought  h  /me.  Above  all,  the  belongiaf 
instinct,  parent  of  all  social  obligation,  has  not  fully  a^ 


^  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

peared;  and  when  it  does  appear,  it  does  not  for  a  long 

iZbS?       ~P  '^'^^  fi"*  instinctive 

^^'^  ^^'^^  ''^  ^"tsiders  are  hastes 

'^hom  It  B  a  duty  to  pUlage  and  harass  Tf 
«  especially  this  absence  in  him'of  Jne7i^"  J^^'^^^ 

iTr^r  the  worfd  in  which  he  find. 

the  failure  of  grown  people  to  make  allowance  for  It. 
Se  cS^'aTh^  ^^''^  misunderstanding  between 

»  AopelesB  to  expect  any  grown  person  to  know  anything 
important  about  him  or  his  ambition.,  or  to  takeTS2 

rational  view  of  any  subject.  «>  ««e  a  truly 

The  chUd  in  fact  lives  in  a  different  world  from  ours:  a 

ture  the  world  of  the  swrft-footed  Achilles,  of  the  Vikings 
of  Nm^rod  "a  mighty  hunter  before  the  Lrd";  a  worU 
from  whic    our  world  of  humdrum  commercial  iSel  fa 

B~Ue  His  sentiments  are  those  of  Si^ 

lay  ?  ?T        ^'^"^  the  riTh^ 

left  the  lazy  sons  of  peace  to  settle  the  justice  of  it." 

It  IS  not,  m  fine,  aU  the  virtues  of  manhood  that  it  is  the 
chdd  s  busmes.  to  cultivate,  but  only  the  primal  one^^  No 

unfolds    ;L"Bi'  ^  '^^^^  ^'    -^t  fi« 

r  K  :  J  ^  ^"J""  i«  the  time  for  the  devekwnent 
o^^  Plato  calls  the  spirited  quality,  the  lion^^JTL 
«w»tial  part  of  character  -  not  indeed  the  ruler  but  the 
hlliT^^  ^  "^^^  ""^""t.  ready  at  the  call  of  the 
high^  prmcple  or  "reason."  It  is  the  warlike  age  •  what 
be.  under  f avo^We  dmmistance..  the  age  of'^vlb^ 


A  CONFLICT  OF  IDEAU3 


And  then,  upon  the  positive  side,  there  are  certain  in- 
stmcts  in  the  child  that  constitute  what  often  amounts  to 
a  moral  obligation  to  break  our  law.  Back  of  the  whole 
obsession  for  daring  exploit  is  the  fighting  instinct,  often 
in  its  primitive  form,  the  form  in  which  virtue  —  virhu, 
the  quality  of  being  a  man  —  receives  its  first,  indispensable, 
and  most  central  growth.  It  b  the  call  of  the  eternal  hero 
m  the  youth  that  oompeb  him  from  soft  and  easy  ways, 
and  sudi  as  are  of  good  repute  among  his  maidesi  Mmts,  to 
venture  on  the  exploits  for  which  we  blame  him.  It  is  the 
boy's  determination  to  overcome  —  utterly  to  ignoie,  rout, 
and  insult  —  the  coward  in  himself  that,  when  opportunity 
for  hard  games  a  lacking,  drives  him  to  lawbreaking.  Sir 
Launcdot  rides  forth  every  day  upon  our  city  streets,  and 
next  morning  the  judge  says,  "Twenty  days." 

In  preaching  to  the  boy,  and  setting  before  hfan  for  his 
admiration,  only  such  virtues  as  he  cannot  by  any  possi- 
bility understand  or  onulate,  we  are  preaching  thrift  and 
industry  to  the  wiU  Indian  or  the  Highland  cateran.  The 
boy  is  not  a  grown  man,  and  it  is  not  proper  that  he  shouM 
ouddenly  become  one. 

And  beneath  all  other  causes  of  juvenile  lawbreaking  there 
is  the  great  commandment  of  the  Big  Injun  age:  Thou 
shah  assert  thyself.  The  chiM's  original  creative  life  has 
begun  to  stir  m  him;  or  rather  it  has  now  reached  the  con- 
scious and  outputtmg  stage :  it  has  boiled  up  to  the  sui^ 
face,  taken  possession  of  his  consciousness,  and  set  forth 
upon  the  conquest  of  the  world.  Here  it  suddenly  finds 
the  ground  has  been  preempted :  its  native  tendencies  are 
met  with  prahibitbns;  the  orchards  aie  fenced  in,  the 
brooks  preserved,  the  very  shops  where  anythmg  interaitinf 
happens  are  marked  "keep  out."  And  these  prohibitions 
are  largely  in  the  interests  of  a  civilixatkm  whose  qiriafs  of 


3*0  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

rdr,L^\T"°'  understand.  More  questionrfJe  stffl- 
•A«ct  challenge  to  his  new  intuition  of  autonomy -  hi. 
^  in  «Id,t,on  to  aU  these  prohibitions,  impj,  up« 
lum  positive  comnuuKb.  not  only  confining  his  libert^wW^ 
nam,wboundsbutdeprivinghi^ 

SIT  th^evi-iZne^gS^ 

unlimited  authority  over  him  •  ~ 

■OHits  With  hM  new  Mrf  precious  instinct  to  be  free? 
answer  to  the  dre«i  iudg.  within  if  .t  'TL  Z 

he  must  report  that  he  has  done  nothmg  i.  ok^  ^ 

is  due?  The  chUd  has  n.tu»r, 

kTy  ^f","*"'^  custom  «,d  .„thori°rHe 
|s  by  nature  docUe,  wppUed,  m  I  h.«  said,  with  sneeiJ 

dme  h™  to  accept  the  domination  of  Ws^.,, 

do^y  .  no.  ahsoiute  and  unc„ndi«on.l.  U  dl^'n':^ 

your  .aw  .hen  it  is  .^J^J:;::,^^^' ^tt^^l^ 
den.es  all  exercise  of  U,e  warti^^Ltu.^  ^ 

If  ^cMd"  r™  '^""^  <««*««««>«  as  such 

Sat  h^  fa  "■'•J'.''-*'  he  is  toH,  |H„  do,  h.  C 
that  he  »  not  domg  .,  merely  Uca^     U  tMI  DoZ 

2;»^»VnsP.»t,ons  and  his  parents'  or  teache«-^„ 
^tS^^lj;"'^''^'»"»P"«""  Better 


A  CONFUCT  Of  IDEALS  Ml 


St.Augustiiie  —  great  psychologist  that  he  is  upon  this  as 
<m  10  many  otber  nwttm  —  aalDi,  evoi  irf  his  pear  stealing ; 
"Did  I  wUi  mi  fegr  sImMi  to  do  eontraiy  to  thy  hw, 
because  by  power  I  could  not,  so  that  being  a  prisoner,  I 
might  mimic  a  maimed  liberty  by  doing  with  impunity 
things  unpermitted  me,  a  darkened  likeness  of  thy  Omnipo- 
tanqr  ?"  Does  any  wise  parent  or  teacher  wish  for  children 
who nvrer disobey?  Wm  these Bftke  tlw  strongest  moi  and 
women,  such  as  can  be  trusted  to  render  at  the  end  a  good 
account  of  the  especial  talent  that  was  given  them  ?  I  do  not 
mean  that  parents  and  elders  should  lie  down  and  let  them- 
selves be  trampled  on.  Such  is  far  too  much  their  attitude 
ikmiy.  Social  kws  and  mstitiitimis  are  rsal  and  neoessaiy, 
and  mxulk  be  upheld :  your  abdica^ng  yoor  own  duty  wffl 
not  help  your  child  in  learning  his.  But  be  not  cast  down 
if  he  does  not  always  understand,  and  rejoice  if  in  such  case 
he  dares  assert  the  value  of  his  own  idea.  The  rebel  soul 
b  not  a  rd)d  againrt  the  divine  ordo' :  more  often  it  b  its 
champion,  and  the  eon^  b  due  to  some  perverted  view 
on  his  part  —  or  on  yours. 

Never  believe,  whatever  the  evidence  superficially  con- 
sidered may  seem  to  show,  that  the  child's  impulse  of  self- 
assertk>n,  chief  source  of  his  apparent  lawlessness,  b  ever 
in  tniOi  lawkfls.  It  b  o^  the  contiaiy  the  moat  MM 
thing  there  is.  It  b  ^  vdne  of  nature  obo^b^  hmt  aa 
deep  down  in  him  as  you  can  get,  issuing  fnm  all  that 
conscience,  personality,  truth,  can  mean  for  him  —  the  vmn 
of  the  eternal  as  it  crops  out  in  hb  individual  soul.  The  law 
^t  he  obeys  b  not  hb  own  nuddng.  The  seemingly 
unaccountaUe  action  he  ocmas  o^with  b  aotiwitoii,  but 
inexorably  prescribed,  no  more  of  his  choonng  than  of  youn 
—  except  as  he  may  choose  to  disobey  the  voice  and  leave 
his  life  to  that  extent  unrealized.  What  impeb  him  to  earn 
a 


^  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

oirt  aUhaz^  with  some  word  or  deed  that  shaU  be  «B  hi. 
cwm  » the  dim  conviction  that  this  as  v^t  tnrJ  ??  »"  ™» 
ulate  self  of  his  is  .uthotitotiL  r •  """^  "^^'^ 

tbe«in.andthat  hZ^^n^  "Tjf^  -<^- 

Heknows  that  he  bears  within  himself  a  newwdluS: 


!  to  declare. 

him.  with  .he  vita.  P.n^u'°Jn*«;^^:Jt 

he  IS  ever  to  erow  im     ul  •  n«vw,  that  if 

must  do  it  now-  th.t-w.l7^'  T^'  """''"ess,  he 
for  the  f^it,  and  that,  the' l^Tn  "J^:  r^i:^  V"' 

I«t  IB  respect,  not  thwart  or  look  askance  UDon  fh.A^ 
ot  mtm  ud  the  boy  who  is  being  tiro  tTit    h  •  T' 
u-fcr  th.  impute  of  fc««  d^C  iH  h" 

m«.g«.  opportunity  in  our  m^^n^^  LT! 

-  .i..  work  that  h«  b...  i-tn^Il.tlS.'lX'rj^' 


A  CONFLICT  OF  TDZAIB 


moit  within  lumadf  of  the  virtues  of  courage  and  address 
and  the  drilliiig  of  mind  and  muade  in  thdr  service. 

SoiQe  noise  in  the  worid  it  is  required  d  every  «*iM  that 
he  shall  miUce.  Let  those  who  care  that  it  shall  be  an  agno* 
able  noise  look  to  it ;  with  that  matter  he  will  not  much  con- 
can  himself.  It  is  up  to  us,  utterly  our  responsibility,  to 
see  what  isme  this  ultimate  necessity,  this  best  in  him,  shall 
have.  To  him  the  diflerenoe  betwwn  kwbradmig  and 
other  games  of  daring  is  not  yet  dear.  What  is  clear  is 
that  he  must  dare  or  renounce  his  soul.  That  is  to  him  the 
paramount  moral  fact.  To  him  both  doors  are  labeled 
"manliness."  It  ia  for  us,  who  know  where  each  door  leads, 
to  decide  whidi  shall  remam  open  and  which  shall  be  closed. 

And  be  not  too  scornful  toward  the  mental  fin^tadons  of 
the  boy  who  has  chosen  lawbreaking  as  his  means  of  self- 
announcement.  He  could  cite  a  goodly  array  of  authorities 
in  favor  of  hb  choice.  The  Spartans  —  within  their  chosen 
limits  as  successful  educators  as  the  world  has  seen  —  made 
stealing  a  part  of  their  regukr  cunieiihim.  Cmwr  says  ol 
the  Germans:  "Robberies  whidi  are  committed  bs^nd 
the  boundaries  of  each  city  bear  no  infamy,  and  they  avow 
that  these  are  committed  for  the  purpose  of  disciplining 
their  youth  and  of  preventing  sloth ; "  and  judging  from  the 
literature  ot  the  English  boafding  school,  it  would  seem 
that  its  rules  are  made  not  to  be  kept  but  to  be  bidben,  — 
for  the  sake  of  the  training  a£Forded  by  niln  hw tli^ 
sidered  as  a  game. 


The  unimaginative  grown-up,  parent  w  other,  thinks 
(and  I  have  admitted  that  he  has  much  evidence  on'  his  side) 

that  the  Big  Injun  child  likes  giving  trouble  for  its  own  saks^ 
just  as  the  same  person  thinks  that  the  smaller  child  likes 
dirt.   But  —  just  as  the  small  child  seeks  the  gutter  not  in 


^  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

not  his  irood  nor k!-  '         ^'°*'««  «vil  is 

is  ever  f/.  ™,„  Melcs,  and  what  he  must  have  if  he 

godwithin.  """Ixuig  true  to  the 

explanation  being  ttoitT^K  ^  ^t"^'  ""^ 

itis  the  ho.s  .hUf  1^:;,  ^^^,zr^- 

.^-r^eveioprrrnS^'Cts'Tdr™* 

<.^:.:etz:n:Vs:"*  -"-^-o^  - 

ten,  dot  .  oriniMl        i  T.  "'»«  «««  out  of 

0%  legitinTb^viSl  "itd""  r 

to^  to  chase  ,.ou  if  you  will  „„|y 
n^rmaketemlstof  wSrLl" 

Butt...uotL"::^';s:tsr;2:^« 


A  CONFLICT  OP  mEALS 


245 


at 


only  one  who  knows  it.  Nor  is  the  irate  grocery  man  hb 
only  substitute.  Give  a  boy  a  chance  at  football,  basket- 
ball,  hock^,  or  "the  game";  give  him  an  opportunity 
to  perform  difficult  and  dangerous  feats  on  a  horimntal 
bar,  on  the  flying  rings,  or  from  a  diving  board,  —  and  the 
policeman  will  need  a  gymnasium  himself  to  keep  his  weight 
down.  This  is  not  theorj-,  but  is  the  testimony  you  will 
get  from  any  policeman,  schoolmaster,  or  social  worker  who 
has  been  in  a  neighborhood  before  and  after  a  pkyground 
was  started  thexe. 

Is  play  a  necessity  ?  Yes,  if  the  child  lives  and  is  a  whole 
child.  If  he  is  above  ground,  and  the  best  part  has  not  been 
starved  quite  out  of  him,  play  there  is  certain  to  be,  if  not 
in  one  form,  then,  in  another. 

The  "boy  problem,"  as  we  caU  it,  is  really  the  grown-up 
problem.  The  boy  is  all  right.  He  breaks  our  laws,  but 
he  does  so  in  obedience  to  a  law  that  is  older  than  ours,  a 
law  that  has  never  failed  to  get  its  way  or  else  impose  a 
penalty  —  and  to  coUect  it.  The  penalty,  as  is  the  way  with 
such,  is  collected  of  the  victim.  It  is  being  collected  now 
in  our  jails  and  penitentiaries,  in  weakened  and  perverted 
lives  — the  normal  and  inevitable  results  of  allowing  the 
best  force  that  Nature  has  put  into  the  child,  the  force 
that  WM  meant  to  make  a  man  of  hun,  to  go  to  waste  or  be 
turned  into  abntmnal  or  anti-aodal  nh.twi^f 

Against  the  deeper  bw  it  is  we  who  are  the  transgrossors. 
When  "the  children  were  left  out  in  the  planning  of  our 
cities,"  when  we  closed  nature's  path  against  the  growing 
child,  we  made  it  mathematically  certain  that  he  should 
seA  some  othw  path  or  cease  to  grow.  If  opportunity  for 
play  is  denied,  and  by  just  so  far  as  it  is  denied,  stunting 
and  perversion  are  the  absohitely  inevitable  lesuHs. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

W^T  IS  PURPOSEFUL 

About  as  interesting  an  experience  as  there  is  is  to  —  . 
^  when  he  first  finds  his  hands.   He  ha  7o  V  o^^Tm: 

g^t^ttnti^tt"^^  ^'"^  d  no 

great  attention  to  them,  when  suddenly  one  d«v  hL  u  a 

™.  he  never  Uked  .t  .n^hing  before    S^^^' ^ 
uttle,  still  watch  ne  it  with  all       »,-^o  ^pu 

««  time  tli.t  he  can  influence  events-  th.t  h.  ,5/ 

time  o^ri  .1  "  '  th«t 

uing  UMHilw,  wIiB,  bt  wmt,  to  coMnI  other  things, 


FL4Y  18  PURFOSEFOL 


947 


and  main  thorn  move  aooimling  as  he  chooses.  Aristotle 
remaria,  speaUng  of  chOdraii  about  six  yean  old,  that 
"the  rattle  of  Archimedes  is  good  for  children  of  this  age." 
The  important  thing  about  the  rattle  is  that  it  cddmtea 
the  event,  makes  a  noise  in  the  world,  appeals  to  the  sense 
€i  hearing  as  well  as  to  that  of  sight  to  emphasize  results 
obtained.  A  similar  virtue,  it  found  by  grown  people  in 
the  automobile,  which  appeda  abo  to  the  sense  ot  nmA. 

But  sounds  and  motions  are  writ  on  air  and  vanish ;  soon 
the  soul  thirsts  for  more  permanent  effects.  An  epoch 
opens  when  the  child  makes  his  first  cake  —  squeezes  moist 
sand  betweoi  his  handi  and  thm  peeks  in  and  sees  that  it 
retains  his  impress  and  supencriptiML  And  so  oo  to  the 
making  of  pies  and  palaces,  to  the  whole  chapter  of  creatiw 
play. 

It  has  been  said  that  the  difference  between  play  and 
work  is  that  woA  is  for  an  ulterior  object,  while  play  is  for 
itself.  What  truth  there  is  in  this  distinction  depends  upon 
the  word  "  ulterior  " ;  for  play  is  ahnost  always  for  an  object 
If  we  say  the  satisfaction  of  the  play  is  in  the  doing  of  it, 
we  must  also  say  that  "it"  is  nut  the  motions  gone  through, 
the  process  of  the  playing,  but  the  end  sought  It  b  on  the 
end  that  the  ichiM's  heart  pad  mbd  aie  set  It  absorba 
hb  attention,  gives  meaning  and  motive.  He  b  all  inten- 
tion :  seeking  the  end  is  what  he  is  doing,  and  the  wlMile 
of  it.   That  is  the  act  as  it  is  to  him  the  actor. 

Watch  a  child  building  a  tower  of  blocks.  Note  his 
increasiiig  tahaefy  as  its  equilibrium  becomes  more  unstable, 
the  sublime  daring  required  m  adding  the  but  block.  He  is 
not  thinking  about  himself,  not  conscious  that  he  is  there 
at  all ;  hb  whole  being  is  absorbed  into  the  work  in  hand. 
It  is  not  he  that  is  building  the  blocks :  the  blocks  are  build- 
ing him.  The  tower  rules ;  the  child  b  utterly  subordinate ; 


*•  rUY  m  EDUCATION 

doing  itT*  <• 

block,,  raising  them  to  .  k  '"  ""V"* 

or  escape.  ^««»e  object  to  c^tu,. 

And  so  in  the  later,  team  eamea  .♦♦-^♦l.  j 
the  end  -  making  the  Wt  nS  ^ 
the  UOl  over  the  lin7  i  ^'  ^      *  «^ 

thTWandrnninJ^         '""^"^^^  of 

'-n„i..rcret::^~*^-*''«' 

to  tdiow  "t  a  nuirk  and  to  rtrilt.  wM,  ,  rtck  or 


PLAT  IB  PURPOBETUL 


340 


wmpaa  of  some  sort,  upon  which  our  ball  games  are  so  largely 
bjiUt  But  m  in  thcM  cues  it  is,  from  the  child's  point 
of  view,  the  end  thrt  iovTO.  Tl»  boy  wants,  it  is  true, 
to  throw  with  his  right  arm;  but  when  he  does  thmr  H  k 

not  his  right  arm  that  interests  him,  but  the  friend,  window, 
first  baseman,  or  other  convenient  and  satisfying  object  that 
he  is  tliiowing  at.   He  wants  to  strike  with  a  stick,  but  it 
w  not  the  flottfUiiiig  of  the  Ut  that  governs,  but  the  hitting 
of  the  ball  -  even  beyond  that,  he  CMw  »  good  deri  when 
he  hits  It  to  and  with  what  result.   Often,  indeed,  be  wiU 
express  himself  as  wholly  dissatisfied  when  he  has  made  a 
veiy  pretty  and  vigorous  motion  with  the  bat  if  the  desired 
connectioii  with  the  bdl  did  not  occur.   lie  may  want  to 
do  the  thing  b  a  certain  prescribed  way ;  but  H  is  Ike  doing 
of  the  thing,  not  the  method  used,  on  which  his  mind  is 
bent.   All  his  faculties  are  focused  on  this  end.  Every 
tissue,  every  drop  of  Wood,  prays  and  travails  that  it  shaU 
be  attained. 

This  purpoeefo]  charMter  of  phiy  wu  weU  iUustrated  by 
a  httle  giri  whom  I  watched  as  she  learned  to  deep.  She 

had  great  difficulty  in  acquiring  the  first  rudimenti  of  loco- 
motion, but  she  finally  solved  the  problem  by  means  of  a 
rattle  which  she  was  very  fond  of  and  which  she  would  throw 
just  beyond  her  icMsh  and  then  find  that  somehow  she  could 
get  to  It  It  was  the  mttfe  that  pulled  her  there.  Hie 
end  in  view  released  the  power  to  act. 

That  the  instinct  for  the  end  lies  deeper  than  the  pre- 
scnption  of  the  means,  and  is  even  independent  of  it.  seems 
to  be  duectly  proved  by  the  instinctive  satisfaction  in  kick- 
ing goals,  in  throwing  »  goal  with  both  hands  as  in  basket 
ball,  mstead  of  with  the  right  alone,  or  in  hitting  a  mark 
with  an  arrow  or  a  bullet.  The  man  who  used  to  paint  with 
his  toes  m  European  gaUeries  illustrated  the  possibiUty  ol 


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250  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

anoth^  issue  of  the  manipulating  impulse  than  the  fi«t 

means  of  a  hollow  reed  or  hv  „#  *  ^ 

„  .„  .  °'  °y  strings  of  wire  or  catmit  Th#»v 

W.U  s,„g  .„  ..one  and  wood  or  tbro^  ^  ZZJ^ 

«U  sounds,  in  poetiy,  in  institutions 

.  J!*'™' .""^  '?™*'°«  brt  much  more 

'ocuse,  mindlfeiSl^'^l  l^^'^"'  *^ 

To  the  child  play  isJway,  the  «eldng  of  the  end.  The 
motions  m«le  are  Itnown  to  him  (if  ,t  dl)  «»h,  « 

A  cress  section  of  a  game,  or  a  photogmphic  view  rivin, 

^.rtl^  f!^  th^^  Play 

obie^t  th^^  r    "."^  '"''K.i..  and  tt^ 

^Sion    I  vist.  of  ««h  «t  ,t«rb.  hi.  whole 

pr™\"°'  "  compenIS 

tasZZ^i^^     achievement,  the  service  of  end.  itmt 
justify  thansdy«,  .ad  the  means  of  serving  them. 
Nature  in  her  mode  of  eduction  has  never  adonted  th. 

Bwiy  m  Itself,  be  it  long  or  short.  His  plav  is  to  him 
a  preparation  for  something  else  but  in  S  • 
who„y  worth  while.   The  'r^^'^  ^^^^ 

play.  It  has  become  selfKX>nscious,  the  end  is  in  sdf^M^ 


PLAY  IS  PURPOSEFUL  351 

fection,  not  in  the  immediate  game,  and  is  unnatural  to 

them  in  consequence. 

It  is  by  this  same  method  that  Nature  always  works 
The  way  she  makes  a  tree  is  not  to  begin  forty  feet  under- 
8^und,  graduaUy  build  up  the  roots  —  "lay  a  good  founda- 
tion"-unta  she  gets  to  the  surface,  then  erect  a  solid 
trunk,  thrust  out  the  various  branches  of  learning,  and  then 
one  hundred  years  after  the  start,  bring  out  her  first  leaf! 
She  begins  in  medias  res,  on  the  ground,  at  the  level  of  ac- 
tion, and  thrusts  down  a  root,  and  a  leaf  up  to  balance  it. 
It  is  a  tree  frwn  the  beginning,  and  a  whole  one.  That 
js  the  yeiy  formula  of  growth.   It  is  a  whole  tree  from,  the 
beginnmg,  a  whole  deed  from  the  very  start.    In  the  same 
way  the  child  begins  with  the  end,  with  doing  something. 
Growth  mostly  starts  not  as  physiologists  say  it  ought  to 
mth  exercising  the  big  muscles,  but  from  the  hand,  the  point 
of  utterance;  and  gradually,  as  the  achievement  blossoms 
up  higher,  the  foundation  strikes  back  deq)er  into  the  child's 
being;  but  always  he  is  doing  something  — a  thing  worth 
while  from  his  point  of  view. 

So  the  characteristic  of  the  most  usual  kind  of  play  is 
subordination,  subservience  to  an  «id.  It  is  not  that  the 
child  chooses  to  play,  but  that  the  end  prescribed  in  play 
chooses  the  chUd,  becomes  his  conscious  purpose,  and  adapts 
hun  to  itself.  He  is  given  up,  absorbed  into  it.  Man  is 
the  child  of  purpose,  the  servant  of  prescribed  ends,  by  the 
original  and  ingrained  habit  of  his  mind. 

The  training  that  play  supplies  is  thus  training  in  the 
moral  attitude  of  man;  for  to  seek  results,  focus  attentbn 
not  on  going  through  the  motions  but  on  getting  the  thmg 
done,  is  the  condition  and  necessary  form  of  all  morality. 

The  drifl  in  subordination  that  play  supplies  is  more  in- 
tense than  can  be  provided  in  any  other  way.  Gymnastic 


252  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

exercises  for  the  eirtensor  muscles  of  the  arm  may  brmg  out 
the  power  that  is  there;  but  pitching  for  the  home  team 

brings  out  a  power  that  was  not  there,  that  existed  only  in 
the  boy's  heart  and  in  the  heart  of  the  team  he  represents. 
The  play  purpose  exalts  to  its  own  level.  The  chUd  throws 
himself  into  his  game  up  to  the  very  limits  of  his  courage 
and  perseverance -beyond  the  limits  hitherto  set,  for  the 
game  is  itself  the  very  act  of  growth.  He  foUows  the  baU 
each  day  further  into  the  unexplored  regions  of  potential 
character,  and  comes  back  each  evening  a  larger  moral 
being  than  he  set  forth.  His  whole  nature  is  trained  m 
this  discipline,  run  into  the  mold  that  nature  has  therein 
prescribed. 

The  purposefulness  of  play  develops  especially  during 
the  Big  Injun  age.  The  passion  for  reality  that  governs 
this  stage  of  growth  unplies  subordination  to  the  laws  of 
real  acomplishment.  To  be  real,  to  do  real  things,  you 
must  set  your  heart  on  your  object  and  see  only  that  But 
the  attitude,  though  it  receives  its  great  development  during 
this  period,  dates  further  back,  as  we  have  seen.  Man  is 
by  his  nature  a  seeker  of  results  almost  from  the  very  first. 

Without  a  recognition  of  the  purposeful  character  of  chU- 
dren's  play  we  cannot  appreciate  its  vital  function  in  their 
growth.  Hitherto  we  have  considered  mainly  the  direction 
of  the  play  impulses;  now  it  is  a  question  of  their  method 
—  of  the  mood  and  temper  of  the  action  they  prescribe. 
Upon  that  mood  wiU  depend  the  sort  of  being  they  create, 
not  now  as  to  bodUy  and  spiritual  shape,  but  as  to  make  and 
fiber.  For  in  the  growth  of  the  living  thing  there  is  a  law 
of  texture  as  well  as  a  law  of  form.  All  flesh  is  not  the  same 
flesh;  but  there  is  one  kind  of  flesh  of  men,  another  flesh 
of  beasts,  another  of  fishes,  and  another  of  birds.  Besides 
the  shape  of  the  tree  —  the  number,  slant,  and  arrangement 


PLAY  IS  PURPOSEFUL 


253 


of  its  branches  —  there  is  the  question  of  the  sort  of  wood, 
its  grain  and  consistency,  varying  all  the  way  from  poplar 
to  the  ancient  wind-blown  cedar  on  the  cliff. 

And  where  growth  is  by  action,  the  texture  of  the  life 
attained,  its  timbre  and  resonance,  will  depend  upon  the  sort 
of  action  through  which  it  has  accrued,  just  as  its  form  will 
depend  upon  the  ends  to  which  the  action  is  directed.  Hunt- 
ing, fighting,  nurturing  play,  determine  that  the  product 
shall  be  a  hunter,  fighter,  nurturer  —  and  so  on ;  but  what 
sort  of  hunter,  and  the  rest?  That  must  depend  upon  the 
mood  in  which  the  play  is  carried  on.  Each  day  will  leave 
its  mark ;  and  the  fiber  of  the  man,  whether  firm  or  pliable 
—  what  his  intimate  quality  shall  be  —  will  depend  on  the 
spirit  of  the  game.  I  think  we  may  be  confidoit,  for  in- 
stance, that  a  hard  game  will  give  a  firm-wrought  fabric, 
tough,  hard  wove ;  a  loose  and  easy  game  will  leave  a  flimsy 
one.  And  so  also  ws.  may  believe  that  a  purposeful  attitude 
will  produce  a  spiritual  body  in  which  each  cell  and  tissue 
is  charged  with  intention,  attuned  to  the  seeking  of  ends. 
As  the  leaf  is  the  unit  of  plant  life,  and  every  tree  a  structure 
built  of  leaves,  so  is  purpose  the  unit  of  man,  and  every 
human  spirit  an  edifice  of  inwoven  purposes. 

Thus  the  law  of  the  play-built  creature  is  the  law  of  pur- 
pose. He  is  a  hunter  whose  heart  is  set,  not  on  hiding, 
running,  leaping  —  not  on  healthful  «cercise  —  but  on  the 
taking  of  the  game;  a  maker  lost  in  the  thing  he  makes, 
who  will  give  all  he  has  to  finish  it ;  a  nurturer,  citizen,  who 
forgets  his  own  life  in  the  service  of  the  life  he  loves.  To 
play  is  to  be  the  servant  of  an  end. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 


PLA.Y  IS  THE  SERVICE  OF  IDEALS 

A  CHILD  playing  is  absorbed  into  the  end  he  seeks.  What 

is  the  nature  of  that  end  ? 

^  In  the  first  place,  it  should  be  said,  the  child's  purpose 
IS  seldom  if  ever  the  same  as  Nature's.  She  has  not  intrusted 
bm  with  her  whole  plan,  nw  told  him  why  she  has  made 
such  or  such  an  act  appear  desirable.   He  has  no  concep- 
tion  that  he  is  training  himself  to  be  a  man —  or  at  least 
not  until  a  later  stage  than  that  which  we  are  now  consider- 
mg.   The  sight  of  his  friend  is  to  him  sunply  an  invitation 
to  the  chase  or  contest ;  the  tree  suggests  clunbmg,  the  brook 
a  swmi,  the  squirrel  a  shot  with  a  snowbaU  -  with  no  hmt 
of  remoter  advantages  to  be  attained.  So  in  our  maturer 
play  pictures  and  sj-mphonies  are  to  us  simply  and  ultimately 
desirable,  regardless  of  whatever  purpose  Nature  may  have 
had  m  giving  us  a  feeling  of  rhythm  and  balance  and  a  sen- 
sibiUty  to  certain  sequences  and  tones. 

But  Nature,  though  she  does  not  intrust  the  chUd  with 
her  whole  ^urpose  from  the  start, -and  perhaps  never 
with  her  final  and  inclusive  purpose,  whatever  that  may  be 
-does  prescribe  lo  him,  at  each  stage  of  his  development! 
purposes  not  only  so  weighted  as  to  make  tiiem  adequate 
and  final  motives  for  his  action,  but  such  as  are  the  most 
inclusive  that  he  is  then  able  to  achieve.  And  as  soon  as  iie 
can  rollow  them  she  prescribes  to  hhn  the  fuU-biown  purposes 
that  are  to  govern  his  adult  life.  Wielding  succeeds  grasp- 
ing  as  soon  as  the  child  has  learned  to  hold  things  in  lUs 

364 


PLAY  IS  THE  SERVICE  OF  IDEALS  255 

hand;  pounding  supersedes  mere  brandishing,  using  the 
stick  as  a  txxA  follows  dose  on  pounding.  Then  come 
building,  moldmg,  creation.    So  walkbg  takes  the  place 

of  kicking  as  soon  as  his  legs  can  hold  him  up ;  chasing  fol- 
lows walking,  tag  supplants  chasing,  and  football  conquers 
tag.  Each  successive  exercise  has  for  the  child  its  own  suffi- 
cient end ;  but  as  soon  as  possible  the  final,  inclusive  end  is 
introduced  and  the  mind  bectmies  focused  on  the  sort  of 
object  that  is  designed  to  govern  the  grown  man. 

(I  speak  here  and  elsewhere  of  Nature's  "  purposes  "  simply 
as  a  'convenient  way  of  referring  to  the  results  that  natural 
processes  do  actually  bring  about,  without  intending  to 
put  forth  any  opinion  as  to  whether  Nature  does  have  or 
represent  any  conscious  purposes  or  not) 


The  p'  ly  purpose  is  not  the  pursuit  of  pleasure.  Pleasure 
results  from  play,  and  may  in  the  sophisticated  become  a 
conscious  motive,  but  it  is  not  the  play  motive.  It  is  extrane- 
ous, a  by-product;  it  does  not  in  any  way  account  for  the 
play  attitude  or  the  direction  of  the  play  instincts.  In 
play  the  motive  of  the  act  is  the  doing  of  it;  the  child  will 
know  afterwards  that  he  was  having  a  good  time,  and  may 
choose  to  play  again  partly  for  that  reason;  but  pleasure 
will  never  be  the  present  motive  in  the  play  itself.  In  suc- 
cessful play  a  child  does  not  know  that  he  is  having  a  good 
time;  he  does  not  know  that  he  is  having  a  time  at  all ;  tune, 
in  fact,  has  ceased  along  with  self-consciousness.  He  b 
not  a  receiver  of  impressions,  but  a  doer,  pure  and  simple, 
and  exists  for  nothing  else.  The  pursuit  of  pleasure  is  an 
egotistic,  self-conscious,  almost  a  morbid,  state  of  mind, 
notorioudy  self-defeatmg.  Play  implies  the  opposite,  con- 
trasted attitude,  that  of  self-foigetfulness,  subordination. 
The  man  who  goes  out  to  have  a  good  time  is  usually  dis- 


2M  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

appoiutc  d.  The  one  who  goes  out  to  play  the  game,  and 
does  play  it  for  all  it  is  worth,  is  never  wholly  so. 

Play  involves  pain.  You  canrrt  become  lost  in  the 
achievement  of  an  end  without  some  disregard  of  the  sacri- 
fice mvolvwi.  You  cannot  play  the  game  unless  you  learn 
to  Ignore  the  kicks  and  the  fatigue.  Young  men  even  kUl 
themselves  m  games;  and  readiness  for  such  sacrifice  as 
the  end  may  caU  for  is  fundamental  in  the  moral  attitude 
of  play. 

And  the  ph-      ,rposes,  though  they  are  the  chUd's  own, 
and  are  to  h-   .satisfying  motives  for  the  acts  prescribed, 
are  not  selfish,  and  are  as  far  as  possible  from  representing 
wlum    A  child's  play  is  in  a  true  sense  self-assertion,  but 
It  IS  the  assertion  of  a  self  deeper  than  the  mdividual:  its 
purposes  are  largely  race  pr     ,es.  and  are  wholly  extra- 
personal,  mdependent  of  his  private  will ;  they  are  purposes 
tl»t  have  chosen  him,  not  he  than.  True  he  gratifies  him- 
self  m  foUowmg  these  purposes.  Such  is  indeed  the  road  to 
the  highest  happiness  attainable  by  man,  the  happiness  of 
the  scientist  who  has  followed  truth,  the  artist  who  ha3  been 
tone  to  his  vision,  the  soldier  who  has  fought  the  good  fight. 
But  let  us  not  get  our  feet  entangled  in  this  old    . . 
quibble  of  the  selfishness  of  being  true  to  one's  bet> 
We  could  not  serve  the  best  if  its  commands  did  not  a,  .y 
to  us.   And  the  voice  that  commands  rejoices  in  us  when 
we  wm.   But  it  is  not  the.  devil's  voice  for  all  that,  and  no- 
body who  plays  the  game  ever  thmks  it  is.   There  are  in 
every  man  two  selves,  or  two  poles  of  self,  one  authoritative, 
the  other  secondary ;  one  representing  the  eternal,  the  other 
the  transient  It  is  the  former  that  speaks  in  the  play 
purposes.  ' 

^  It  is  true  the  voice  is  different  in  each  individual.  But 
It  IS  not  private  or  selfish  on  that  account.  The  oak  de- 


PLAY  IS  THE  SERVICE  OF  IDEALS  357 

mands  of  ear^h  leaf  its  special  service,  and  will  not  be  quite 
itself  if  that  service  b  denied :  but  the  demand  oomes  tnm 
the  oak,  not  from  the  leaf.  Or  if  there  are  laws  not  ci  the 
whole  but  of  the  individual  alone,  they  are  nevertheless 
laws,  not  whim,  laid  dow  n  for  him,  not  of  his  choosing.  Origi- 
nality itself,  new  and  creative  act,  for  those  who  believe 
in  such,  b  of  divine,  not  selfish  origin.  It  b  the  last  best 
word  in  him  that  the  individual  utters  therdn  —  an  utter- 
ance not  won  save  as  all  there  is  oi  him  b  attuned  to  the 
highest  note  he  has. 

Subordination,  not  selfishness,  b  the  characteristic  of 
true  play  —  subordination  to  an  extra-personal  end,  and  the 
bending  of  the  mind  and  facidties  to  its  accomplishment. 
To  play  is  to  place  yourself  utteriy  at  the  disposal  of  the 
object  that  not  your  whu  but  tbe  {day  instinct  has  pre- 
scribed. 


The  subordination  prescribed  in  play  is  subordination  to 
outer  as  well  as  to  inner  requirements.  Not  as  the  boy 
feels  like  running,  but  as  the  dodging  of  the  pursued  or  the 
necessities  of  flight  prescribe ;  not  as  he  would  like  to  win, 
but  as  the  unsympathetic  retaliation  of  hb  opponent  dic- 
tates ;  not  wholly  as  his  eager  soul  had  planned,  but  as  the 
obdurate  material  requires  —  such  must  be  hb  law  if  he  b 
truly  to  serve  the  hunting,  competing,  md  oeative  instincts. 
Dry  sand  will  not  hold  its  shape,  round  stones  present  a 
steady  structure,  nor  a  tower  of  blocks  survive  a  certain  angle, . 
out  of  deference  to  any  rage  or  grief  of  hb.  There  b  no  sym- 
pathy—  not  even  a  sense  of  humor,  unless  of  a  diabolic 
sort  —  to  be  found  among  these  obdurate  outade  phenom- 
ena. If  he  loves  a  flower  or  a  kitten,  he  can  neither  make 
the  one  grow  nor  keep  the  other  as  his  friend  except  by  ob- 
servance of  laws  not  made  for  hb  convenLuce.  Meantime 


*»  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

the  sU^y  m«nd.te  of  the  pl,y  taputo  to  .ttli«  th.  «m1 

enforee,  ha  ,ubmB,io„  to  the       condition,  thiu  faip.^ 

•jito-owW.  Uw.  Fo,  not  merely  to  h.„  and  i„w«dly 
«W)r.t.  •  puipoK.  but  to  any  it  out,  to  go  forth  and 
stamp  .t  vbibly  upon  ft.  world;  i.  ^  S«l  ^ 

quirenent.    To  the  Big  Inj„n  im  Z 

fore,  thor  .ubmrnion  «,d  wknowledgment.  He  mi^ 
c»™c  rton.  «d  wood  «.d  iron  .nd  to  .„d  ..Ir  .n  j 
hB  own  companion,,  «cu.,  ^ 

At  iirat  mdeed,  a  very  crude  req>on>e  from  the  matraial 

™  «d  „   :  "  ''""''^        Nature  ,hall'^^ 

up  ud  report  th.  deed,  «>  that  all,  himself  especially  !Z 
h«r  «Hl  be  convbori.  H«ce,  presenting  h  TCZ 
terms  the  play  mood  of  Krvio.  to  „  ™df  thwTapp^^ 
.  sor^  of  general  instinct.for-r..uIt,,  the  "joy  fa 

Wrth  «,  iKrdduig  of  mfant  prowc,  ,tanding  next  the  hobby 
«  the  prombid  plaything.  We  aU  like  rattles,  andU  t 
the.r  rattlmg  we  like  -  th.  Ioud«  th.  brtter,  »  o^J 

of  d  strikmg  and  obvious  results:  hence  one  fa 
to  playmg  w.th  fire  and  gunpowder,  in  hi,  blowing  of  tfa 
ho™„,oamg,b<„H„j„^,^j„  To  pound  on  a  t«^ 
or  baatub,^to  drum  «Hl  whirtl.  «rf  ™g  to  ru^ ' 
feet  along  through  the  dry  leave,,  to  ,„„  fa*.  juXC 
»  «  to  make  the  daisy  buds  click  against  yL  b^Z 
more  such  a«  of  the  sort  of'LionTSmd 
d«»-rfejauldrcn  Wee,  for  this  among  other  reason,  to 

have  a  c«t,  tt  a  a  dntmct  ad»«,t.ge  that  it  Aould 


PLAY  IS  THE  SERVICE  OF  IDEALS  850 

rattle  a  good  deal  or  that  its  wheel  should  squeak.  Squeaky 
boots,  even,  are  a  boon,  proclaiming  the  triumphal  march 
of  the  hero,  maklDg  his  every  progress  ahnost  a  procession 
mhieif. 

And  b  evoy  MMrt  of  pli^  «  striking  result  adds  to  the 

satisiaction.  Boys  throw  stones  at  a  bottle  rather  than  at 
a  board  because  it  more  tragically  proclaims  success.  VVir  > 
dows  are  better  still  because  of  the  social  value  of  the  catas- 
trophe. I  think  it  is  not  a  negligible  accessory  in  tennis 
that  the  scoring  is  fifteen,  thirty,  forty,  mstead  of  one,  two, 
three :  it  helps  to  make  you  feel  that  you  are  getting  some- 
where. Cards  would  be  less  fascinating  if  they  were  shnply 
numbered  u^.  to  thirteen  instead  of  dealing  with  the  royal 
family. 


But  thmii^  crude  results  satisfy  at  first,  and  though  we 

are  always  too  easily  paid  off  by  such,  they  do  not  perma- 
nently and  tnJy  satisfy.  The  child  who  has  made  his  first 
cake  will  look  at  it  a  few  moments  very  seriously ;  then  some 
improvement  suggests  itself.  We  all  know  the  rest  of  that 
story.  We  know  that  he  will  never  achieve  that  pofeot 
sand  cake;  but  we  know  also  that  whatever  makes  life 
worth  living,  whatever  lends  it  interest  or  satisfaction  or 
nobility,  will  lie  m  the  pursuit. 

The  heart  of  the  play  purpose  is  always  an  ideal.  It  is 
the  statue  m  the  marble  that  commands  conquest  (A  the 
obdurate  material  that  mtorenes.  What  drives  the  child 
to  teach  his  blodcs  their  lesson  and  to  make  the  sand  obey 
him  is  the  vision,  dim  though  it  be  at  first,  of  the  growing 
temple.  And  it  is  the  vision  growing  within  him  as  the 
outer  fabric  gets  shaped,  advancing  with  every  gain  of  skill, 
reflecting  the  adiievemait  and  reflected  by  it,  that  keqM 
hhnbuSding. 


2W  .  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

.  ?f        li^  P"^^  ^'"''^      end  is  not 

a  material  product;  but  it  i.  dway.  there  and  domioMt 

It  governs  the  fighting  instinct,  prescribing  to  the  boy  new 

formsof  contest  and  more  difficult  opponents  as  fast  a. 

Victories  are  won ;  its  voice  is  always  for  a  further  conquest 

and  win  not  oeMe  fa  Mm  untU.  like  Galahad,  he  wins  he 

h^^  ?''fr'^.''  '"^"^^  «natt.hua,le.  A 

h.gh  school  boy  »  not  heard  to  say:  "I  can  now  th««., 

fack.  hit  the  Jine.  well  enough."  or  "The  team  is  successful 
T^'T^UU  ^  *  P''^"^'^'"  ^""^y  keeps  ever  just  ahead 

wplV^h  r  ,  "  *  P'-"^"*  grows 

well  she  feeU  that  .he  must  make  it  do  better  still,  tlatit 
must  have  more  blossoms  and  more  oeautiful  ones.  She 
does  not  say  of  her  baby  brother,  that  now  he  is  doing  weU 
enough  and  she  neetl  not  attend  on  him  so  devotedly :  there 
to  no  end.  h«e  or  hereafter,  to  what  her  love  would  give, 
^e  chdd  perhaps  has  discovered  what  is  on  the  other  side 
of  the  back  fence;  but  there  is  another  fence  beyond; 
and  there  is  one  beyond  the  farthest  star.   There  is  no  Umit 
and  no  sense  of  approaching  one.  in  the  demand  that  the 
play  spirit  is  making  on  every  child  in  every  play 

The  human  spirit  is  like  a  magic  lantern.  The  light  of 
a  great  mstmct  shines  through  it  from  within  and  casts 
Its  picture  on  the  mists  ahead.  As  the  child  or  the  man 
per^ecte  his  nature  m  the  likeness  of  that  image,  the  hnage 
Itself  becomes  brighter  and  more  defined.  But  the  co^ 
he  makes  wUl  never  equal  the  original  -  not  while  the  man 
18  Still  alive. 

Play  drills  the  child  to  the  service  of  ideals  under  the 
conditions  imposed  by  his  social  and  physical  surromidings. 
He  IS  squeezed  to  the  desired  pattern  between  the  inexorable 
pressure  of  the  ideal  within  him  and  the  obdurate  resistance 


PLAY  18  THB  BSRVICB  OP  IDEALS  961 

The  ideal  ends  tliat  play  prescribes  arf  the  kleals  that 
dominate  our  later  life,  the  ends  for  which  men  and  w(»nen 
in  all  afet  have  f^adly  died  and  been  praised  for  doing  so. 

Building,  creation,  rhythm;  nurture,  curiosity;  hunting, 
fighting,  citizenship,  —  these  are  the  abiding  sources  ot 
our  ideals.  The  mother  who  sacrifices  her  life  for  her  child, 
the  poet  facing  poverty  and  death  for  the  sake  of  art,  the 
scientist  for  his  discovery,  the  patriot  for  his  country,  testify 
to  the  mmml  sufficiency  of  the  same  instir.  .  '  motives 
that  govern  children's  play.  The  fighting  .<  et  itself, 
which  to  some  people  seems  the  least  ennoblu»(,.  the  basis 
of  the  great  ideals  of  chivalry  which  alone  have  shown 
power  to  capture  not  merely  the  reason  but  the  imagination 
of  our  western  world. 

Play  supplies  what  we  cill  the  professional  element  in 
any  kind  of  work.  Standing  beside  the  practical,  the  useful, 
the  utilitarian  end,  there  appears  this  other  glorified  presenta- 
tion of  the  same  object  in  its  eternal  relations  as  a  thmg 
of  beauty,  as  something  worth  serving  for  itself.  Beside 
the  useful  tool,  there  stands  the  ideal  efficiency ;  beside  the 
shelter  from  Ihe  cold  and  '  'n,  the  temple  not  made  with 
hands;  beside  the  servicea  invention,  the  mystery  still 
unsolved,  challenging  to  new  adventure  of  the  mind ;  beside 
the  practical  improvement  in  the  public  service,  the  Zkm 
of  our  dre.'^l  ». 

The  ideal  inat  is  at  the  heart  of  each  play  instinct  har 
in  its  time  —  that  is,  through  a  great  part  of  human  history 
—  been  worshiped  as  a  god :  the  fighting  instinct  as  Mars, 
orThor,orHarcales;  the  hunting  instinct  as  Diana;  rhythm 
as  Apollo  with  hu  attendant  muses;  nurture  as  Goes,  as 
the  Madonna;  curiosity  as  Minerva  or  Pallas  Athene; 
the  making  instinct  as  Hephaistus,  with  the  demigods 
Daedalus  and  our  English  Wayland  Smith;  while  all  the 


2«2  PLAY  EDUCATION 

^i*^*^  ^'"^-lyi"^  instinct 

^r^^f  has  been  identified 

with  the  body  of  Christ  in  which  aB  commuiucants  are 
member  and  with  the  Holy  Ghost,  of  which  ^p^^ 
take    The  Messiah  is  a  political  conception.  ^ 
Uosmg  the  vista  there  seems  to  be  a  unifying  vision 

implied  m  the  voice  of  each  fafay  as  she  brings  her  gift 
we  seem  to  hear  the  words,  "And  there  is  a  giSte^ 
beautiful  than  1."   Certainly  there  is  a  desire^^T^ity  ^ 
purpose,  integrity  of  life,  for  a  single  and  inclusive  aim.  And 
there  seems  to  be  some  faculty  for  attaining  this  desire 
We  do  somehow  judge  in  each  special  case  betweenTe 
several  instincts.   We  have  some  sort  of  criSig  prin! 
ciple,  a  "Reason"  as  Kant  calls  it.  that  asserts  an 
authonty   The  word  is  veiy  indistinc  t  as  to  specific  a^- 
asmdeed  IS  the  case  with  all  ideals  -  exacting  obedtn'to 

anoe.   But  the  mstmct  none  the  less  exists,  and  is  clothed 

J'oTJ        ^"u  °'  P^"^      ^^"^  a  creature 

^wa^  «olS"".'"*  '''''  ^^^^^  hav^ 

always  governed,  and  must  govern,  human  life.   The  whole 

Of  Which  man  ,s  the  outcrop,  we  shaU  never  know.  Our 

an  mfinite  mind  or  oversoul  -  incalculable,  e^nj^ 
-anunsounded  reservoir  of  thought  an<i  p^^t 
™««Kfa  any  realized  idea.  *"«i«c  uac 


CHAPTER  XXXn 


PLAY  AND  DRUDGERY 

A  REASON  often  given  for  assigning  to  play  a  very  subor- 
dinate place  in  moral  training  is  that  it  excludes  drudgery, 
and  so  affords  no  preparation  for  meeting  an  essential  — 
some  people  seem  to  consider  it  the  essential  —  problem  of 
the  moral  life. 

There  is  on  the  face  of  it  much  plausibility  in  this  con- 
tention. The  way  to  learn  to  do  a  thing  is  usually  by  doing 
it,  and  it  would  seem  that  play,  which  is  the  very  antithesis 
of  drudgery,  can  afford  no  important  discipline  for  its  per- 
foniumce.  And  yet  I  bdieve  the  argument  to  be  fallacious. 
I  believe  not  only  that  i^y  is  essential  in  any  system  of 
moral  training,  but  that,  jn  especial,  it  is  an  important  prep- 
aration for  meeting  this  specific  evil  so  dreaded  by  the 
modern  man. 

To  understand  how  thb  can  be,  or  whether  it  can  be,  the 
case,  we  must  considtf  a  little  what  diudgoy  is  and  haw  it 
comes  about. 

Drudgery,  in  the  first  place,  is  not  identical  with  woric 
nor  a  necessary  incident  of  it.  The  best  work,  as  has  been 
said  in  an  earlier  chapter,  satisfies  the  play  instincts;  is 
done,  that  u  to  say,  for  its  own  sake  and  not  for  an  ulterior 
object  Sudi  woric  indudes  that  of  the  artist,  the  sdentut, 
the  mother,  the  lover  of  his  kind,  the  patriot  —  the  best 
definition  of  work,  in  the  last  analysis,  being  occupaticm 
that  satisfies  our  team  sense  as  members  of  a  social  whole. 

Work  however  often  includes  drudgery.   It  b  not  always 


264  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

adequately  inspired.  There  are  things  that  have  to  be  done 
m  this  world  which  do  not  carr>'  then-  own  motive  with  them, 
are  not  irradiated  by  the  end  they  serve. 

The  end  itself,  in  the  first  place,  may  not  be  of  the  illumi- 
nating sort  It  is  m  the  service  of  the  hungers  that  drudgeiy 
IS  most  commonly  undergone,  chiefly  as  a  necessary  incident 
of  self-support;  and  the  hungers,  as  we  have  seen,  lend  no 
immediate  inspiration  to  the  labor  they  exact.  They  are 
among  the  "ulterior"  motives  of  the  usual  definition  of 
what  IS  not  play  — our  taskmasters  and  not  our  gods; 
slave  drivers,  whose  commands  are  enforced  by  penalties' 
not  wholly  by  their  own  direct  authority. 

And  the  hunger  motive  is  not  only  in  itself  without  the 
power  of  conferring  immediate  satisfaction,  but  it  often  takes 
us  where  no  self-justifying  motive  is  encountered  by  the 
way.  A  man  may  have  to  make  his  living  by  methods  afford- 
ing httle  scope  to  any  of  the  great  constituting  instincts 
outside  of  whose  service  action  is  barren  of  immediate 
spiritual  return.  The  means  of  obtaining  physical  support 
may  be  as  uninspiring  as  the  end. 

Sudi  is  the  very  essence  of  drudgeiy  -  occupation  di- 
vorced from  immediately  satisfying  motive.  And  subjec 
tion  to  such  occupation  is  peculiarly  tiie  fate  of  man,  espe- 
cially under  civilized  conditions.  The  evil  is  one  that  he 
has  brought  upon  himself  through  his  ingenuity  in  devising 
means  for  the  accomplishment  of  his  desires.  It  is  his 
tiiouaand  cunning  inventions  of  new  ways  of  obtaining  food 
and  shelter,  and  satisfying  his  otiier  fast-multiplying  wants, 
that  have  superseded  in  his  case  the  original  means  of  satis- 
faction  and  led  him  from  the  path  that  nature  intended  him 
to  foUow.  and  along  which  his  achieving  instincts  still  impel. 

Man  has  invented  drudgery,  and  thereby  subjected  him- 
self to  an  evil  from  which  aU  otiier  creatures  are  exempt. 


PLAY  AND  DRUDGERY 


265 


The  animal  seeks  his  sustoianoe  by  the  method  whidbi  na- 
tupe  originally  prescribed  and  which  is  still  written  in  hb 
active  instincts.  Even  the  savage  hunts  and  fights  and 
fashioii^  weapons  in  a  way  that  accurately  satisfies  his 
native  impulses.  In  his  aboriginal  condition  man  the 
hunter  and  fighter  may  be  called  upon  to  hunt  and  fight 
to  the  point  of  sickness  and  exhaustion,  but  he  is  not  com- 
pelled to  leave  his  natural  way  of  life  and  go  forth  into  a 
wilderness  of  uncongenial  occupation  —  to  adding  eternal 
columns  of  figures,  working  a  treadmill,  or  digging  under 
ground.  Under  nature's  scheme  the  method  of  obtaining 
a  living,  though  far  less  ^ective  than  the  ways  that  civilized 
man  has  invented  for  himself,  had  the  advantage  that  it 
was  also  the  living  of  a  life :  the  hungers  and  the  active  in- 
stincts pulled  all  one  way. 

For  civilized  man,  on  the  contrary,  all  that  has  changed. 
The  herdsman  supplants  the  hunter  at  an  early  stage ;  Cain 
the  farmer  kills  Abel  the  herdsman;  Ai^wri^t  and  Steven- 
son and  McCormick  have  lessened  the  progeny  of  Cain; 
and  at  each  remove  man  finds  himself  separated  by  a  wider 
gulf  from  the  life  that  nature  intended  him  to  lead. 

And  S^ven  the  new,  more  effective  though  less  satisfying 
way  of  supplying  material  needs,  an  iron  necessity  in  the 
form  of  laws  of  population  and  of  competition  forces  its 
adoption.  The  alternative  is  to  embrace  the  new  method 
or  die.  Not  hunting  beyond  the  point  of  fatigue,  but  work- 
ing in  a  mill  or  oflSce,  at  tasks  that  are  tiresome  even  while 
the  man  is  strong  and  fresh,  has  become  the  condition  of  ob* 
taining  physical  subastence.  Man's  instincts  still  point 
where  nature  aimed  them  during  the  hundreds  of  centuries  in 
which  they  were  evolved,  but  civilization  has  side-stepped, 
requiring  of  him  tasks  to  which  he  is  not  fitted,  and  leaving 
many  of  his  native  instincts  unfulfilled. 


aw  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

Thus  under  the  conditions  that  man  has  fashioned  for 
hunsdf  there  is  a  fauH  in  the  strata,  a  break  in  the  direction 
of  his  hfe.  as  a  result  of  which  he  is  compeUed  to  exist  largely 
outside  of  those  instincts  with  which  he  was  originally  fitted 
out  and  of  which  his  spiritual  patrimony  still  consists. 
Nimrod  IS  set  to  hunting  title  deeds.    The  descendant  of 
the  Vikings  must  content  himself  with  copying  bills  of  sale. 
Instead  of  charging  the  enemy,  the  soldier  soul  must  charge 
up  Items  m  a  book  account.   Making  a  Kving  has  become 
incompatible  with  life  itself  according  to  his  native  power 
to  live.   Pam  and  hunger,  hard  taskmasters  to  all  living 
things,  are  in  this  respect  more  cruel  to  man  than  to  any 
other  creature,  driving  him,  through  the  stimulation  of  his 
own  abundant  ingenuity,  to  follow  more  and  more  a  path 
in  which  he  is  homesick  from  the  start. 
^  What  we  have  to  call  crime,  idleness,  and  vagabondage 
IS  largely  the  continuance  of  unreconstructed  man  in  the 
dir«jbon  in  which  nature  aimed  him,  past  the  switch  in- 
tended to  shunt  him  off  into  our  dvihzed  pursuits.  Drud- 
g«y.  on  the  other  hand,  is  the  penalty  paid  by  those  who 
take  the  curve  for  civilization  and  way  stations  and  leave 
the  ancient  track.  And  it  is  lisuaUy  only  the  way  stations 
tn^  can  reach. 

It  is  true  that  aU  real  work  is  supported,  as  I  have  said, 
by  the  great  team  instinct.  But  though  the  instmct  is 
always  there,  it  is  not  always  strong  enough  to  float  the 
service  it  requires  of  us.  Our  duty  to  society  prescribes 
actions  to  which  it  does  not  always  sufficiently  impel  We 
want  to  support  our  family,  to  do  our  part  as  citizens,  but 
we  do  uot  alway.-  want  to  add  up  the  accounts,  copy  the 
manuscript,  make  the  calls,  or  perform  the  daily  task  which 
our  desire  implies.  Even  dying  for  one's  countrv,  though 
satisfying  at  the  moment  of  vision,  cannot  alwiys  be  so 


PLAY  AND  DRUDGERY  267 


exhilarating  as  it  sounds,  during  the  perhaps  tedious  proeess 

of  putting  the  idea  into  execution. 

Even  the  other  play  instincts  besides  loyalty  have  their 
hard  prescriptions.  There  is  an  artistic  as  well  as  a  social 
conscience,  and  it  is  as  hard  a  taskmaster  as  the  otiur. 
The  great  word  of  the  Renaissance,  the  great  forgotten 
word  that  reconciles  morality  and  art,  was  virtu,  the  man- 
hood of  the  artist  —  signifying  his  readiness  to  go  through  fire 
and  water  and  misery  and  s  ';a,rvation  in  obedi  ce  to  his  vis- 
ion, as  embodied  in  some  triumphant  example  oi  the  beautiful. 

The  best  play  involves  sacrifice  in  preparation,  sometimes 
in  the  f or  ni  of  (i^  adgery.  Music  b  an  instinctive  satisfaction, 
but  the  practice  on  the  piano  prerequisite  to  the  most  rudi- 
mentary expression  is  not  an  unfailing  joy  even  to  ourselves. 
So  we  love  literature,  but  not  necessarily  the  Latin  grairmar, 
which  is  an  important  path  to  literary  appredation.  So 
also  the  instinct  of  curiosity  prescribes,  thanks  to  man's  in- 
vention of  aids  to  his  intellectual  life,  the  learning  of  the 
alphabet,  oi'  the  multiplication  table,  and  of  many  other 
discovered  means  of  acquiring,  assimilating,  and  transmitting 
knowledge.  Play  of  the  fullest  and  most  satisfying  sort  im- 
plies a  period  of  apprentice^p  not  wholly  illuminated  1^ 
the  instinct  whicl:  it  serves. 

In  thus  providing  new  and  better  means  of  satisfying  the 
play  instincts,  especially  of  creatii;n,  rhjiibm,  and  curiosity, 
dvilization  has  again  depa^led  from  nature's  path,  but  this 
time  in  a  way  wholly  ben^cent.  Hie  savage  (if  we  could 
get  back  to  the  time  when  he  really  was  a  savage  ;  not.  a 
highly  conventionalized  and  cultivated  being)  le  id  lo 
sing  and  dance  and  speak  only  so  far  as  tliC  immediate  joy 
of  each  act  and  the  illumination  of  his  own  short  purposes 
would  cany  him.  Civilization  has  taught  us  how  to  go 
mudi  farther  if  only  we  will  okhire  the  pain  oi  learning. 


3«  PLAY  m  EDUCATION 

ways  of  nuns  discovay-of  fcaming  the  new  meth™), 
of  m.ta„g  .  Kving.  of  serving  the  rt.t,\nd  hi"  fX 
«.d  of  s««fying  the  play  i„sti,,c  .h^gk  „  ZIZ 

piMto  Itself    That  school,  it  is  true,  seems  to  cherish  the 

*Tf P">«-  "HSardless  of  whetTer 
tt.e  point  o  actual  fnUtion  is  ever  ««=hed,  and  to  vaSS 
moral  tnunrngm  preportion  as  the  pupH's  o-rawiuZIin, 
nn^ercised.  But  yet  it  stands  for  th'eLpor;^:2:n^ 
th«e  new  ways  must  be  acquired  whether  the  ZaTrf 
Mquisitlon  is  or  is  not  agreeable.  •  process  M 

Just  how  far  schooling  is,  or  should  be,  dmdgerj-  and  how 

necessaiy  here  to  consider  -  especially  as  the  frontier  wiU 

by  ^blBhed  custom,  and  the  fact  that  he  finds  the  oU„ 
ch  Idren  already  prdident  in  it  and  «^  „,  JJ^' 
■s  n  Itself  enough  to  recommend  it  to  the  child.  ChiS 

attitude  of  EniW.  schoolboys  toward  writing  Latin  verse 
-wh.ch^  though  they  may  not  like,  they  s«m  to 

TJ  ^  ""t-:"!  ^"y-  I"  tfc«  ««  of  reS 

2  ™  if °'  accompSmentTn 
~  We  .„™„d  them,  and  long  to  be  adLtted  to  Z 


Still  rt  IS  clear  enough  that,  as  stated  in  an  earlier  chapter 
here  must  be  a  certain  amount  of  drudgay  in  sdiooH^ 
ttings  must  be  taught  which  the  play  in^  do  no  aC 
cover.  A  person  turned  loose  in  the  mod«n  world  mth^ 


PLAY  AND  DRUDGERY 


269 


ability  to  read,  write,  or  cipher  would  have  a  good  case  against 
those  responsible  for  his  education,  regardless  of  how  as  a 
child  he  fdt  toward  the  acquisition  of  those  accomplishments. 
Ability  to  unlock  the  door  to  the  whole  world  of  knowledge 

b  worth  spending  a  good  while  in  learning  the  combination. 

And  school  should  always  be  carried  on  with  the  firm 
assumption  that  certain  things  have  to  be  learned  whether 
the  learning  of  them  is  agreeable  or  otherwise.  There  is 
a  lesson  taught  by  sudi  authoritative  attitude  even  more 
valuable  than  the  three  R's.  It  is  of  all  things  necessary 
that  the  child  shall  learn  that  the  grown-up  worid  =3  real, 
and  has  the  right,  even  uhe  necessity,  of  seeing  fh  t  its  laws 
and  conventions  are  observed.  Whoever  is  to  remain  at 
large  in  dvilia^d  society  must  learn  sooner  or  later  to  conform 
to  its  requirements.  The  lesson  is  as  important  as  the 
knowledge  that  water  is  wet,  fire  hot,  and  heavy  weights 
bad  for  dropping,  on  one's  toes.  It  is  a  question  of  orienta- 
tion, of  learning  what  is  what  and  what  isn't  in  real  life. 
The  school  presents  t,  dety  to  the  chiW.  It  stands  as, 
next  the  home,  the  main  social  fact  of  his  surroundings ;  and 
it  is  bound  by  every  consideration  of  honesty  and  humanity 
to  present  it  to  him  as  it  is. 

A  final  motive  prescribing  drudgery  —  besides  the  hun- 
gers, the  need  of  apprenticeship,  and  the  satisfaction  of  the 
social,  the  artistic,  and  the  sdent'fic  consdence  —  is  asceti- 
cism, the  shadow  of  the  conscientious  motives,  the  canoniaip 
tion  of  their  negative  side,  which  embraces  the  penalty  of 
virtue  as  if  it  were  tlie  essence  of  it.  Asceticism  is  the 
apotheosis  of  the  Big  Injun,  the  self-imposed  suflferinp  of 
its  saints  being  a  pCTVerted  but  heroic  form  of  stunt. 

Drudgery  then  there  must  be  if  we  are  to  support  ova 
physical  life,  to  fulfill  the  great  instinct  of  loyalty,  or  to 


270  PLAY  IN  iaJUCATION 

attain  the  highert  «tirf«rtion  of  the  other  pky  instincts. 
Fully  to  serve  any  of  these  ends  we  must  do  work  that  is 
dry  and  joyless  m  the  doing  of  it.  The  antagonist  cannot 
be  Ignored.   How  can  he  be  overcome? 

I  beK^e  the  first  thing  to  be  recognized  is  that  mere  experi- 
ence  of  dnidge^^  ,s  often  ineffective,  and  that  when  it  does 
serve  a  purpose  it  is  as  apt  to  be  an  evil  as  a  good 

In  the  first  place  the  mere  repeated  doing  of  a  thing  does 

Ae  motions  does  not  necessarily  mean  doing  the  thing. 
Tie  domg  to  leave  a  moral  «sid«um,  must  proceed  from 
the  person  s  own  will,  not  from  an  external  cause;  for  a 

1^1  iZ    'lJt  f^'^'  °"  ^^^''^  on  shore 

have  been  ated  by  Gulick  as  examples  of  the  impotence  o 

an  enforced  «,utme  to  produce  a  habit.  -  the  degree  of 
r^anty  observed  in  these  being  a  good  meas,lTthe 
effects  of  this  method  of  education.   The  boanZ  ZhZ 
boy  often  exhibits  similar  results.  ^ 
tolt""'  true  that  men  may  become  so  accustomed 

too  long -that  It  ceases  to  be  drudgeiy  to  them.  Prob- 
abl.v  even  soldiers  and  sailors  attain  this  negative  adapta^ 

easier  for  them  to  keep  on  in  the  beaten  road  than  to  turn 
aside  from  ,t.  But  such  insensibility  is  not  a  moral  pow™ 
but  merely  a  nervous  adaptation;  and  it  is  an  adaptetion 

Z^il'  '  ^^'^J'^^'^  not  prepared  for  the  tedium  S 
Adaptation  to  a  certam  round  of  duties  does  not  make 


PLAY  AND  DRUDGERY 


271 


the  man  who  has  acquired  it  any  more  able  to  encounter 
drudgery  in  general ;  it  has  only  made  a  certain  sort  of  repeti- 
tion ceue  to  be  drudgery  for  him.  It  is  like  the  hardening 
of  the  sailor's  hand,  convenient  for  his  eq)edal  sort  of  woric, 

but  not  generally  applicable  to  the  rubs  of  life. 

Becoming  addicted  to  a  fixed  program  is  indeed  rather  a 
handicap  to  success  in  any  other  line.  Endurance  of  drudg- 
ery, triumphantly  acquired,  brings  on  a  sort  of  progressive 
numbness,  with  increasing  inabili^  to  duuoge.  If  we  could 
so  train  a  child  to  a  given  routine  that  he  would  not  mind 
it,  we  should  have  so  far  diseducated  him  for  those  occupa- 
tions requiring  a  different  sort  of  tedium  as  well  as  for  all 
pursuits  calling  for  initiative  and  enterprise.  Hence  the 
lamentation  of  Max  O'Rdl  thai  Frendi  diildien  have  been 
taught  their  lessons  so  thorough^  thftt  they  keep  on  Sirring 
them  all  the  rest  of  their  lives,  in  contrast  to  the  effects 
of  the  less  formal  English  education. 

The  truth  is  that  there  is  no  such  thing  as  being  inured 
to  drudgery  as  such,  or  to  pain  in  any  form.  The  whole 
thing  is  a  myth.  As  Emerson  says:  Hooism  wiU  never 
be  made  easy.  Nobody  ever  got  used  to  bang  hurt,  or 
learned  to  like  it.  Certain  things  may  cease  by  practice  to 
be  drudgery  to  certain  people ;  but  neither  drudgery  which 
continues  to  be  such  nor  any  other  pain  becomes  less  obnox- 
ious through  familiarity.  On  the  contrary,  the  longer  you 
have  the  toothache  the  less  you  desire  its  continuance;  the 
more  hours  the  bore  has  talked  to  you  the  more  bored  you 
get.  An  hour  a  day  of  either  one  or  the  other  experience 
would  not  make  the  visitation  a  jot  more  welcome.  In 
short,  becoming  insensible  to  a  given  experience  is  as  likely 
to  be  loss  as  gam,  while  general  insensibility  comes  onfy 
with  death,  wtdtk  its  partial  trhimph  rq>resentt  an  eaily 
stage. 


WAY  IN  EDUCATION 
AWlity  to  bear  drudge,y  or  «,y  <rth«  kind     p.!,  i.  . 

pain  or  drrd;::^':crpC:^tt 

to  ^ar,  .o  persevere  In  spite  o^fZ:^;,''!^^™ 

purpose  to  persist.  swongest  affiimative 

earlv  in  s.^.l.^k  *  """S  "thfetes  were  to  beirin 

;  Tl,^'  •  «™»  of  being  tli^ped  over  the  heS^ 
hclced  m  the  sh,„,,  «,u.d,«j  wei^hrZl 
dropped  off  building,  „t  variou,  heighta  onto  Ztr.;!Sf 

ft.  «.ntr.,y  the  variou,  bun,p,  and  brui,e,  thuHcLui^^ 
»nd  the  purely  receptive  habit  in  regard  to  ,j 
make  them  les,  able  to  endure    Wk!^l  u  i 
P..yer  i,  the  kicking,  nott  bei.™SS^tt  l^*" 
to  keep  hi,  eye  on  the  baU  «rf  hia^h^  ^  W 


PLAT  AND  DRUDQEET 


378 


the  line,  utterly  regardleM  of  bumps  and  kicks  and  other 
physical  annoyanoo,  that  makes  a  i^yer  of  him.  It  is 
what  he  has  learned  to  do,  not  what  he  has  become  accus- 
tomed to  suffer,  that  has  developed  him.  In  truth  there  u 
no  other  thing  that  can  be  learned,  no  other  power  that  can 
be  developed  in  a  human  being,  than  the  power  of  doing 
something.  All  force  and  all  power,  whether  mend  or  physi- 
cal, b  active.  Hie  idea  (rf  a  passive  cKpuity  b  purdy 
mythical.  There  is  no  such  thing  and  never  was. 

Doing  drudgery  is  not  a  specific  kind  of  action.  It  b 
action  inducing  a  specific  kind  of  pain.  It  cannot  be  learned 
any  more  than  action-that-produces-headache  can  be  learned. 
There  ue  many  ways  of  getting  a  headache,  some  ci  than 
of  less  moral  value  than  some  others ;  but  there  b  no  Bped&e 
training  for  them  all.  So  there  are  a  great  variety  of  ways 
of  acting  outside  of  the  instincts  —  of  doing  drudgery  — 
but  there  is  no  one  way  of  learning  to  do  them,  because  their 
ccnnmim  dement  b  not  in  an  active  principle  but  in  a  pa»* 
nve  effect 


So  although  drudgery  —  or  at  least  learning  certain 
thmgs  regardless  of  whether  they  are  drudgery  or  not  — 
has  an  important  place  in  education,  and  although  the  atti- 
tude of  the  schod  shoukl  be  that  things  must  be  done 
whether  they  are  agreeable  or  otherwise,  let  us  not  fall  into 
♦he  error  of  supposing  that  it  is  the  mere  lack  of  illuminat- 
ing motive  that  is  of  value,  or  that  it  necessarily  develops 
any  power  of  encountering  a  similar  absence  later  on. 

Morality  b  evermore  active  and  not  pasuve :  moral  effect 
depends  not  on  what  was  suffoed,  but  on  what  was  done. 
It  is  only  so  far  as  the  child  codperates  that  moral  good 
can  possibly  result.  Was  the  purpose  his?  If  not,  what 
avaib  it  that  he  submitted  to  it  ?  Learned  to  do  drudgery  ? 


»«  TU.Y  IN  EDUCATION 

is  he  b„„  .„.,   .h.r„"  .n^^x.^-  -ppy 

u  he  80  taueht?        ik»  ^  i    .  ,  •  •*»*»"*«'^»  wUI.  How 

will  to  reach  th.t  hr^a^.  „  J°"f  '^^^  "ith  the 
<ie««  to  make  g™^,  .nd^^Ll.'!::,'^""  »' 

•JVJlAUrty  of  getting  him«lf  to  college  oTnuVirTl.- 

development  t.^y'ThfrrLt^L 
conrtitutes  hfa  moral  nature 

K»  don.l.hh",JrS^°^*      '-"-"'^  be-"" 

«^enT"pruc:'itf  d""!^ 

i.  i.   'Z'z  sx«t  r^"  " 

that       exereisiTd  „r  ht'"  ■S,?  '^'^ 
IS  true,  be  this  much  of  n»^^  i2  ^       .         ""y-  i« 

of  dn,dge^,  th"t  ^    t  '^'^T 

weak  point  of  this  n«r*;«„i  aiscovenng  the 


PLAY  AND  DRUDQSRY  97« 


But  exoapt  for  nich  incidental  ditoovery  of  the  faot  that 

drudgery  is  not  invincible,  there  is  no  specific  poiw,  no 
tactic  applicable  to  the  routing  of  this  eq)ecial  enemy  as 
aUch.  The  preparation  needed  in  this  case,  as  in  that  of 
any  other  evil,  is  the  habit  not  of  suffering,  but  o;  doing 
lomething  else  in  ipite  of  it  It  b  tli«  positive  acquirement 
of  some  vakmua  method  of  turning  the  attratira  not  upon 
the  pain,  but  a^^&y  from  it,  that  holds  the  secret;  or  it  b 
the  power  of  fusing  it  with  something  else  that  becomes 
too  strong  for  it,  that  carries  it  away  in  a  mighty  current, 
mdts  it  in  the  heat  of  a  passionate  pursuit ;  or  finally,  it 
is  the  strong  (mrpow  that  enaUes  the  person  to  keep  on  fai 
spite  of  it  These  are  the  true  antagonists  of  dmdfery  ud 
erai^tute  the  mly  means  by  whidi  it  can  be  met 

What  then  is  the  service  of  play  in  developing  the  powers 
that  can  overcome  drudgeiy,  or  make  us  aUe  to  endure  it? 
In  the  first  place  play  is  training  in  the  glad  service  of  those 

ideals  which  prescribe  that  drudgery  must  be  endured  and 
justify  its  endurance.  The  artist,  scientist,  soldier,  mother, 
citizen,  exemplars  of  the  gre^t  play  instincts  —  these  are  the 
typical  heroes  of  our  race;  iuid  not  insensibility  to  pain 
but  devotion  to  the  ideab  they  serve  has  made  them  sudh. 
Especially  is  the  play  instinct  of  membership  —  source  of 
the  great  power  to  belong,  to  act  not  as  an  individual  but 
as  the  single-minded  servant  of  a  cause  —  the  maker  of 
heroic  lives. 

Seomdly,  the  haUtual  attitude  of  purpose,  <^  suboniin»> 

tion  to  an  inner  image,  that  play  insistently  prescribes, 
in  which  it  gives  daily  and  hourly  practice  during  all  the 
plastic  years,  is  the  distinctively  heroic  attitude.  The 
power  to  give  yourself  wholly  to  an  end,  to  lose  yourself 
in  the  wofk  in  hitod,  not  to  know  whethw  you  are  buikiing 


276  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

the  house  or  the  house  is  buildimr  vou  wfc-fi. 

botto,n  of  the  heap  »  ,„„g     ^.e  b.Jl  is  pushed^  Z 

In  the  training  of  this  power  of  purpose  olav  tuZiT 
as  I  have  indiVafpH  a       j       .  *^  P*»y  lunushes, 

Gradually  law^.^^  ■   ,  ^  '""i-ed. 

He.dHiKaX:^~ 

further  postponements  of  fruition.   To  kick  T^^V 

ology,  und^rlLd  the  .  '  T  '  '"^'^ 

6j^,  uuuersi;ana  the  cosmic  mords-  rinfy.aivi..r,^ 

P-er  and  teach  the  child  to  foLHe^o^VLlT 

r«::?id;r "   "  "it 

«»  m  tnith  .a  one.  Phy  is  ij^^ 


FLAY  AND  DRUDGERY  277 

purposeful  in  fonn,  ideal  in  direction.  Nature  has  made 
of  her  chosen  method  of  education  a  continual  preparation 
both  for  the  sort  of  thing  her  chile*  wiU  have  to  do  and  for 

the  one  effective  way  of  doing  it.  The  moral  set  and  atti- 
tude she  teaches  is  that  of  the  trained  servant  of  ideals. 

And  supposing  even  these  motives  fail.  Supposing  the 
master  instincts  M,  as  they  sometimes  will,  to  guide  and 
master  us,  —  suppose  that  in  spite  of  whatever  training  we 
have  received,  our  best  impulses  run  thin,  inspiration  dies, 
and  both  joy  in  the  act  and  the  illumination  of  its  ideal  end 
faU  to  float  us  over  the  pain  and  tedium  of  its  accomplish- 
ment There  wiH,  ev«ai  in  the  most  fortunate  lives,  be 
times  when  the  only  resource  left  is  to  hold  on  by  what  is 
called  clear  grit- the  sheer  bulldog  quality  of  perseverance. 

But  even  here  the  experience  of  play  is  not  irrelevant 
A  very  large  proportion  of  it,  after  the  sixth  year,  has  been 
under  the  tutelage  of  the  fighting  instinct -the  Paladin 
of  our  nature,  addressed  to  obstacles  as  such.  And  what 
the  chUd's  own  courage  does  not  hold  him  to  his  playmates 
have  required  of  him.    Children  have  no  use  for  a  squealer, 
and  their  standard  of  courage  and  perseverance  is  higher 
than  IS  ever  found  in  the  schoolroom.   Children  try  hard 
at  spdling  and  arithmetic,  but  not  as  they  try  at  baseball. 
The  best  effort  of  the  classroom  is  soft  and  "sissy"  as  com- 
pared to  that.   Would  any  teacher  expect  a  boy  to  write 
with  a  broken  finger?   He  will  catch  swift  pitching  with 
one  for  eight  innings  and  not  think  to  mention  it.   And  in 
after  life  the  experience  stands  hun  in  good  stead.   He  can 
still  buck  up  and  play  the  game  under  the  most  dreary  con- 
ditions and  in  the  shadow  of  the  blackest  moods.  Whatever 
there  is  in  sheer  bulldog  perseverance,  it  would  seem  that 
play  furnishes  for  the  chad  the  most  severe  and  constant 
truning  of  it. 


278  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

But  purely  conscientious  action,  the  state  of  sheer  holdiiur 
on  by  bulldog  grit,  is  not  a  state  to  be  desired,  nor  to  S 
SlT^  It  is  better  to  bet^ 

—    ^  T*"''  °"  "'th  mere  obstinacy 

between  I  fe  and  death,  separates  these  two.   But  it  is 
better  stUl  o  tnumph,  to  command  the  power  that  «,mes 
with  present  inspiration,  if  we  can  compass  it.   The  con- 
saenfious  attitude  is  incomplete.   It  is  the  service  of  the 
absent  .od.  turnmg  toward  the  sun  during  its  eclipse,  the 
mere  holdmg  of  the  fort  until  .the  greater  powers  ai^ive. 
Conscience  mdeed,  is  not  fully  conscientious  unless  it  serks 
to  work  through  its  present  state  to  the  better  footing 
beyond    The  old  debate  "whether  it  is  better  to  be  an 
angel  of  light  or  Crump,  with  his  grunting  resistance  to  the 
even  devUs  that  beset  him"  may  surely  be  closed,  if  indeed 
It  was  ever  necessary.    Inspiration  must  supersede  con- 
science,  the  angel  relieve  the  bulldog.   Or  rather  it  is  the 
true  aun  of  conscience  to  supersede  itself  and  win  back  to  the 
play  spmt    We  must  try  to  act  each  time  with  a  little  more 
spirit,  so  that  some  day.  in  this  world  or  the  next,  we  may 
graduate  from  our  meek  ««i,tance  to  oppression  into  the 
hilarious  mood  of  the  true  sons  of  battle,  and  do  our  fighting 
in^e  grand  manner  of  a  Raleigh  or  a  Farragut 

We  are  not  so  to  hug  our  own  power  of  endurance  that 
we  make  a  eloak  of  ,t  not  only  against  evil  but  against  our 
greater  and  more  effective  self.  We  must  learn  to  caU  our 
gods  to  aid  us  and  to  welcome  them.   Every  true  prophet 

L^^   J.      u ""^''^  closes  sees  the  good 

transfigured  as  the  neautiful. 

And  perseverance,  to  have  its  full  value,  must  b.  upon 
the  actors  own  responsibiUty.  The  grit  of  the  common 
soldier  IS  good,  but  the  grit  of  the  leader,  of  the  artist,  of 


PLAY  AND  DRUDGERY  279 

the  self-directed  in  any  line,  is  of  a  higher  sort.  For  the 
leader,  the  originator,  must  have  courage  not  merely  to 
walk  on  in  the  line  that  has  been  set  for  him,  but  to  walk 
where  there  is  no  line.   He  must  not  merely  endure,  but  he 
must  endure  with  an  open  and  undefended  heart.  To 
him  It  IS  not  given  to  say  that  he  has  his  duty  to  guide  him 
and  that  is  enough.  The  throe  of  uncertainty,  of  first- 
hand, unguided  decision  must  be  his.  He  can  wrap  no 
cloak  about  him,  put  on  no  armor  against  gods  or  iren,  but 
must  so  conquer  despair  as  to  drive  it  not  only  from  his 
acta  but  from  his  heart  -  that  the  god  may  again  enter 
and  take  command;  for  save  as  the  god  returns  to  him  he 
has  no  mandate  to  fulfill. 

Schooling  in  this  higher  perseverance  must  be  through 
service  to  one's  own  ideals  The  bulldog  must  be  his  master's 
servant,  not  another's;  faithfulness  to  inspiration  is  not 
learned  by  serving  other  motives.  What  is  done  to  please 
the  schoolmaster,  or  from  fear  of  him,  teaches  fear  of  school- 
masters and  desire  for  their  approbation,  and  is  so  far  good 
-  or  evil ;  but  it  can  train  to  no  higher  allegiance.  An  act 
wiU  rise  no  higher  than  its  source,  nor  will  habit  reach  back 
deeper  than  the  act  from  which  it  grew.  If  his  soul  was  in 
It,  It  made  a  path  for  his  som  through  which  it  may  issue 
in  his  future  a.ts.  If  his  soul  was  not  there,  the  path  may 
be  to  that  extent  choked  up  and  hearty  action  made  les 
likely  ever  after. 

These  things  can  play  do  toward  the  overcoming  of 
drudgeiy,  not  because  it  has  any  specific,  or  because  there 
IS  any  specific,  against  drudgeiy  or  any  other  form  of  pain, 
but  because  play  is  life  and  the  entrance  o:  more  life,  and 
because  life  is  the  positive  power  in  this  world  and  the 
conqueror  of  aU  forms  of  pain  and  negation  whatsoevtt. 


CHAPTER  XXXUI 


IJXUBERANT  PLAT 


The  play  of  chUdhood  is  purposeful :  it  is  so  in  its  charac- 
tenstac  manifestations  and  in  by  far  its  greater  part,  but  it 
IS  not  always  so.   There  is  another  kind  of  play  of  which 
I  have  not  yet  spoken  and  which  is  of  cspedal  interest  in 
the  present  connection  as  affording  a  contrast  with  purpose- 
ful  play  and  qualifying  its  supremacy.    If  you  wiU  oW 
a  group  of  chUdren  at  recess,  hear  them  veU  (as  you  may  do 
from  anywh^e  within  a  radius  of  half  a  mile),  see  them 
throw  up  then,  arms  and  jump  as  though  they  were  tiying 
to  fly.  watch  them  chase,  dodge,  thump  each  other,  and  act 
generally  hke  a  swarm  of  flies  or  a  drove  of  young  colts; 

Trrl^  T  '^f  °f  Pl-y  besides  the 

purposeful -play  of  what  may  be  caUed  the  exuberant  or 
blow,ngH>ff.steam  variety.   Here  the  motive  seems  to  be 
not  toward  an  end  but  outward  in  all  directions  from  a 
center    Indeed  the  very  bodily  attitude,  with  arms  and 
I^s  and  hngers  outstretched  in  the  likeness  of  a  starfsh, 
e^n  the  hair  standmg  on  end,  seems  to  suggest  the  centrif- 
ugal action  of  the  force  at  work.    The  phenomenon  is 
more  m  the  nature  of  an  explosion  than  of  a  purposeful  pur- 
suit.    There  is  no  focusing  of  the  attention  and  no  dominat- 
ing outside  object;  the  vital  force,  instead  of  being  turned 
mto  the  cyhnder  to  work  toward  some  desired  end,  shrieks 
out  through  the  safety  valve,  with  no  apparent  object  other 
than  to  escape.  Action  is  squeezed  out  by  excess  of  pressure 
from  withm  rather  than  drawn  forth  by  an  outside  dm. 


EXUBERANT  PLAY 


281 


Hay  at  recess  or  immediately  after  school  is  indeed  a 
case  not  so  much  of  actioD  as  of  reaction.  It  is  the  straight- 
ening up  of  the  young  tree  that  has  been  bent  nther  than 

the  putting  forth  of  new  growth.  But  exuberant  play 
occurs  independently  of  long  confinement  at  a  de-x.  All 
healthy  children  have  at  times  a  tendency  to  romp.  A 
baby  crows  and  kicks  up  his  legs  without  the  purpose  of 
accomplishing  any  very  definite  feat  Chadi«n  push  each 
other  and  tumble  about  like  young  puppies,  roll  down  a 
bank,  repeat  some  favorite  rhyme  or  gesture,  dimb  over 
their  uncle's  shoulder  from  the  back  of  his  chair,  or  rush 
about  the  room  in  a  sort  of  mad  ecstasy,  banging  against 
the  walls  and  furniture  and  dropping  on  the  floor  after  the 
manner  of  an  insane  dorbug;  or  they  will  whirl  until  they 
are  dizzy  and  fall  down,  and  perform  a  hundred  other  pranks, 
laughing  all  the  time  as  though  they  would  laugh  themselves 
to  pieces  —  without  much  trace  of  purpose  beyond  that  of 
woridng  off  their  energies  by  the  path  of  least  resistance. 

Much  of  the  bawlmg,  pushing,  punching,  chasing,  and 
scuffling  of  boys  of  the  Big  Injun  age  and  early  adokscence, 
including  the  humorous  warfare  that  enlivens  the  way 
home  from  school,  is  of  this  same  exuberant  or  explosive 
mood.  Kipling  speaks  of  a  sort  of  whirling  totter  with  both 
arms  stretched  out,  which  some  of  his  elaborately  disagree- 
able  heroes  caUed  a  "gloat,"  wWch  seems  to  beteng  to  the 
same  class  of  phenomena. 

During  the  later  adolescent  age,  again,  this  exuberant 
force,  as  I  have  already  observed,  follows  the  channel  of 
the  games  that  have  previously  been  serious.  Collegians 
play  tag  in  thb  spirit,  or  play  basebaU  after  supper  on 
June  evenings  during  the  exanunation  period,  getting  out 
and  thumping  the  baU  with  an  astonishing  abandon  — 
long  after  it  has  become  invisible  to  older  eyes  — ma]di« 


282  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

brilliant  plays  and  extraordinary  muffs,  claiming  eveiy- 
^ng.  announcing  and  abiding  by  ludicrous  decisions-- 
boMting,  laughmg.  guying  or  applauding  their  own  and 
each  others  pl.y,  with  an  instant  and  joyful  appreciation 
of  the  inappropriate.  Exuberant  play  is  here  a  sort  of 
back  lesson  or  review,  reviving  the  acquirements  of  an 

fl^lLr  kT^u^^'^'u^  ""''^  '^'"^      -  affectionate 

f^^JT  V-      .'^"''t'^"'         ""^^"^^  has  been 

learned.  It  »  only  such  review  that,  as  I  have  said,  grown 
people  recognize  as  "play."  ^ 

This  exuberant  play,  though  not  the  most  important  kind, 
has  nevertheless  an  essential  place  in  the  child's  develop- 
ment.   Fun  and  exhUaration  are  in  the  first  place  worth 
while  for  themselves.   It  is  good  now  and  then  to  indurge 
extravagant  mood  in  which  all  the  physical  forces  L 
let  loose  and  body  and  soul  romp  together  under  the  easy- 
going  jurisdiction  of  the  lords  of  whim.    We  should  not 
ah^ays  take  our  pleasures  seriously,  but  remember  to  be 
foohsh  on  occasion  as  the  spirit  moves 

Physically  also  this  sort  of  play  must  be  even  better  for 
^eric^^  t;-  Z  r  "^T"  P^'^^"  ^Jther.  than  the  usual  more 
serious  kind  Combining  as  it  does  the  greatest  bodily 
«erbon  with  perfect  relaxation  of  the  mind,  it  gives  the 
m«amum  of  exercise  with  the  minimum  of  fatigue.  And 
then  It  exerases  certain  parts  that  o. ise  would  be 
imperfectly  developed,  establisb.  con...  of  Tvoic^ 
m  Its  more  portentous  aspect,  .nd  de.  .!,  .n  .  the  grinnimr 

lo™  '""^^      ^  preventivfST 

long  or  sour  visage :  the  lack  of  it  is  seen  in  Puritan  physiog- 

noi^.  It  must  also  have  viscera'  effects  different  Lm 
^ose  ofserious  play ;  and  it  calls  upon  the  circulation,  sends 
the  blood  smgmg  through  the  vems.  in  a  peculiar  manner. 


EXUBERANT  PLAY 


283 


But  exuberant  play  is  even  more  important  in  its  spirit- 
ual eflFects.   An  essential  service  of  play  is  as  an  expression 
of  individuality.   The  instincts  that  govern  purposeful 
play  rq)resent  the  child  universal;  they  are  the  elements 
common  to  all  human  life.  But  there  is  a  peculiar  blend  of 
these  elements  —  the  race  soul  speaking  with  a  special  voice 
and  resonance  —  in  every  individual.    An  essential  part  of 
what  play  does  for  us  is  the  finding  of  this  voice.  True 
play  proceeds  outwards  from  the  depths ;  it  not  only  reaches 
the  appointed  end  but  it  starts  from  the  beginning ;  all  there 
is  in  the  child's  being,  fipom  the  spinal  marrow  to  the  veiy 
roots  of  his  hair,  becomes  engaged.    It  sounds  the  very 
accent  of  his  daivion,  lets  out  the  last  link  of  personality. 
A  child's  play  should  be  to  the  individual  spirit  what  the 
uninhibited  sneeze  is  to  the  vocal  chords.  I  saw  the  other 
day  some  remnants  of  the  Iroquois  tribe  doing  a  war  dance. 
Evidently  a  psychological  value  of  the  experience  consisted 
in  somehow  shrieking  or  agonizing  out  as  near  as  might  be 
the  very  ultimate  ego  of  the  man.   Each  was  trying  to 
body  forth  m  one  lucky  spasm  the  crude  material  of  his 
personality.  It  is  this  same  service  that  it  is  the  special 
business  of  the  shouting,  leaping,  exuberant  play  of  chiM- 
hood  to  perform,  — to  fetch  the  voice  from  the  deepest 
spot,  to  make  sure  that  it  shall  be  at  least  this  once  the  very 
child  himself  who  acts,  to  produce  some  noise  or  gesture 
that  shall  carry  the  raw  essence  of  him. 

There  is  much  virtue  in  this  abandonment,  occasionally 
throwing  down  the  rems  and  letting  uninhibited  impulse 
take  its  course.  The  orgy  was  a  recognized  feature  of 
most  early  religions;  and  it  still  has  its  merits,  although 
usually  more  than  canceled  by  its  defects.  Some  people 
are  cfaokebored  and  need  the  release  of  drink,  or  the  stimulus 
of  great  excitement,  to  bring  out  thdr  true  agression. 


^  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

»J.«<In«d»ev„do«..  With. little w.tehinTSZI 
th.  benefits  w,tho«t  the  evil.  <rf  ,1.  Mc  mood  ^ 

It  is  for  .11  these  reasons  imporU'.t  that  tin..  .„J 
tumty  be  .llowed  for  this  -rt'^Uy.  Ev«  Jllr 
and  rough  ..lie  .„d  br.gg,d„cio  of  st4t  ZTj^i^^ 

than  i„''r„ord?xr.:r.:t'ar^^^^^^^^^ 

T.wZ'-rrorhT?-"-^^ 

^  «f  twsfng  the  personality  loose  from  clogT.nd^ 
It  IS  specially  through  exuberant  play  that  v;h„«I 

Knee,   m  the  handwrit mg,  the  wav  ho  o*Fm--  i.:     *  " 
every  bend  and  stiffness  ol^  the  sZe 

b^L^"'""."'        ""^^         :  '«erchanged,Ie  part.- 

fitS'to  '"^f*""''"  twined  u.der  our  own  <^e 
fitted  to  us,  „  I  have  «id.  Hk,  hand  and  gtov.  andV^ 


SXUBBRANT  PLAY 

same  piooMS— brought  up  responsive  to  our  voice,  pei^ 
meated  by  our  indivkliMltty,  and  at  last  ft  put  of  it  It  is 

only  where  we  ourselves  have  changed,  or  where  we  are  of 

a  divided  nature,  that  our  faculties  hesitate  or  fail  to  sup- 
port our  policies.  If  we  could  be  a  unit  ourselves,  we  should 
find  our  hand  and  heart,  our  whole  body  and  every  nerve 
center,  ciying  out  for  what  we  ourselves  desire. 

A  recognized  symptom  of  neurasthenia,  present  to  a 
greater  or  less  degree  in  all  of  us,  and  a  prime  souree  of 
failure  and  ineffectiveness,  is  that  of  divided  personality. 
A  mind  and  body  built  and  instructed  from  the  first  by 
thoroughgoing  action  proceeding  from  the  very  core  of 
being  and  thrilling  out  to  the  circumference  —  a  pwsonality 
molded  by  authentic  acts  and  only  such— would  exhibit 
no  such  rifts;  it  would  be  integrated,  strike  in  a  solid  mass, 
be  all  there,  wholly  present  to  our  occasions.  It  is  shallow, 
what  we  call  half-hearted  action,  beginning  halfway  out  — 
factitious  motives,  semi-enlistment  — that  produce  the  un- 
fused,  unconsolidated  self.  Life  should  proceed  from  the 
heart  as  well  as  toward  self-justifying  ends.  It  is  only 
what  a  man's  soul  flames  up  into  that  becomes  a  part  of  him. 

Life  is  the  appropriation  by  the  spirit  of  the  body  and 
material  it  needs  — in  all  creatures  essentially  the  same 
process  as  that  by  which  the  acorn  builds  the  oak.  No 
two  acorns  are  alike,  and  no  one  of  them  can  learn  from 
the  outside  what  its  own  law  requires.  Difference,  however, 
is  not  the  important  thing  but  only  an  indication  of  it: 
the  essential  is  not  difference  but  originality.  If  all  acorns 
and  all  souls  were  in  fact  alike,  each  wouW  still  have  to  work 
alone,  out  from  its  own  law,  in  order  that  the  product  might 
be  instinct  with  a  single  life  —  a  tree  or  a  man,  not  a  lifeless 
assemblage  of  parts  such  as  some  clever  mechanician  might 
have  made.   That  the  oak  may  be  sound  and  whole,  have 


PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 
one  bent  and  accent  through  all  its  infinite  variety,  it  must 
STktei.  ^^^'^^^  vibnuit  to 

aich  originaUty  does  not  mean  egotism  -  confinement 
o  a  smaller  less  universal,  self- but  quite  the  opposite. 
It  IS  at  the  farthest  depth  and  verge  of  individualitTthat 
the  greater  voices  are  heard.   Our  representative  men- 
Lineoh^  Emerson  William  James -are  not  those  who  are 

different  -  h.larioudy  and  unashamedly  so.   It  is  not  upon 

s  oL    Th"*  T"" 
is  found.    The  universal  is  not  the  uniform. 

an  infil'"^  '""^     ^"  inexhaustible  spirit  requiring 

an  infimte  egression.  Each  individual  has  assigned  to 
h.m  one  syUable  of  the  total  word,  and  it  is  by  speaking 

hnds  of  play  the  purposeful  and  the  exuberant,  are  not  in 
truth  so  whoUy  separate  as  I  have  fou..d  it  necessary  for 
the  sake  of  clearness  to  pretend.  Both  moods  are  almost 
always  present  Exuberant  play  is  not  often  purely  object- 
^ss;  at  least  it  does  not  remain  so  ve^  long'^^n 
Thi^r'^''''  supervenes.  One  leap  into  the  air  suggests 
a  hi^r  one;  one  good  yell  arouses  the  ambition  to  give 
another  even  more  satisfying.  The  fiend  that  man  harries 
.3  Jove  of  the  best  even  in.  the  matte:  of  lettinroff 

1?  ^  u  J"«t  because  the  child  or 

does  lose  hunself  in  it.  just  for  the  veiy  reason  that 
he  ^n^cs  another  and  a  higher  wUl-a  will  impe.^„al. 
that  seems  external  to  Wmself-such  play  eon^i«  the 


EXUBERANT  PLAY 


3B7 


highest  possibilities  of  self-fulfillment.  It  is  in  such  humble 
service  of  a  purpose  that  we  find  the  highest,  the  completest, 
and  even  in  tlM  aid  the  most  exuberant,  expression  of 
personality. 

Rhj-thmic  play,  especially  dancing,  best  illustrates  the 
relation  of  these  apparently  opposing  moods,  because  in 
rhythmic  play  the  two  are  present  both  at  once  and  almost 
equally.  Dancing  is  at  first  a  spontaneous  ebullition,  and 
the  same  is  almost  equally  true  of  music.   Eveiy  one  who 
has  heard  a  lark  sing  knows  why  the  lyric  poets  of  the  old 
world  have  had  to  sing  about  them :  he  is  the  most  satisfy- 
ing example  in  all  nature  of  the  spontaneous  outpouring  of 
the  q)irit   But  both  song  and  dancing  very  soon  come 
under  the  dominion  of  an  end,  become  partly  purposeful 
instead  of  purely  exuberant  —  or  rather  they  seek  a  definite 
fon  :  for  the  sake  of  fuller  expression  of  emotion.  Purpose 
is  bom  as  the  servant  of  ;heir  very  overflowing.  Rhythm 
makes  of  ime  a  medium  ad  definite  as  space;  and  an  ideal 
may  be  expressed  as  concretely  in  the  one  as  in  the  other. 
The  laws  of  rhythm  are  as  precise  as  those  of  form;  music 
may  be  as  accurate  as  sculpture. 

On  the  other  hand  there  still  lives  underneath  the  perfect 
form  the  burning  exuberant  desire.  The  madness  of  the 
great  god  Bacchus,  quivering  for  an  infinite  expression, 
thrills  in  each  restrained  outline,  and  governs  its  restraint 
A  wild  dervish  soul  slumbers  in  the  demurest  minuet,  as 
the  maddest  cancan  holds  the  germ  of  severe  and  stately 
form.  Dancing  was  placed  by  the  Greeks  at  the  apex  of 
their  educatioital  system  as  including  both  music  and  gym- 
nastics, the  two  principles  on  which  that  system  was  built 
up.  Similarly  it  combines  the  two  great  pUy  motives,  the 
motive  of  bringing  forth  an  aiithentic  expression  of  the  soul 
and  the  motive  of  making  that  expression  concrete.  Eveiy 


«8  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

dance  is  Bacchanalian  at  heart,  and.  as  tlw  Mum  imHN 
every  art  is  m  its  germ  a  form  of  dancing 

m  metebr  dwdng  «,d  music,  but  all  play  as  i  have  said 
^  combmes  th««  two  ch««rt«irtic^^^^  ^Je^- 
^  P^-^nality  must  both  come  /it,m  the 
depths  and  proceed  outward  toward  the  ideal  which  •  tml 
mten>i.tation  of  the  depths  implies.    To  bring  out^ 
^  »  of  ch«acter.  the  fuU  resonance  of  personality 
the  stnng  we  pky  on  murt  be  fastened  at  both  ends -in 
authentic  impulse  and  concrete  .chievement  diffe.^ 
ence  between  exuberant  am!  purposeful  play  i.  one^J^t" 
there  js  no  real  line  between.   It  is  the  function  072^^ 

<->^^^ion,  to  link  up  actZ 
fadubitably  witii  the  roots  of  personality,  that  of  the 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 


1IBLATCDNE88  OF  PLAT 
In  proportion  to  our  rdatadnaM  we  are  stronf.— EmaKm. 

I  HAVE  described  the  child  of  the  Big  Injun  sge  ts  if  he 

were  intellectually  omnivorous.  Such,  however,  is  not 
quite  my  meaning,  nor  the  true  state  of  the  case.  Not 
everything  in  heaven  and  earth  is,  even  to  the  Big  Injun, 
equally  desinble  to  do  or  to  exploit.  Hb  very  search  for 
real  experiences  implies  eelectioii ;  if  one  thing  woe  truly 
as  welcome  to  him  as  another,  there  would  be  no  need  ot 
'.earching.  lie  starts  out  with  a  want,  although  a  very 
general  one;  the  key  he  carries  is  a  master  key,  fitting  a 
great  variety  of  locks,  but  it  will  not  fit  everything. 

A  child's  collection  of  treasures,  for  instance,  gives  at  first 
sight  little  evidence  of  selection.  His  taste  seems  supeHbly 
catholic.  Beyond  the  predominance  of  shiny  objects  — 
glass,  metal,  a,  stal,  mica,  polished  stone,  betraying  a  pre- 
dilection common  to  every  hoarding  creature,  whether  man, 
monk^,  or  magpie  —  tlwse  precious  mlscdlanies  <^  forgottoi 
objects,  suggestive  of  a  junk  shop  or  a  domestic  day  of  judg- 
ment, seem  to  disclaim  the  presence  of  any  bias  in  their 
assembling.  There  has  been,  nevertheless,  in  the  making 
of  them,  a  selective  principle  at  work.  The  child's  signature 
is  there  if  you  can  read  it  He  has  been  searching  not  for 
things  m  goieral,  but  for  his  own,  and  these  are  a  {Nut  of  his 
inlieritance. 

The  very  tendency  to  hoard,  to  bring  things  home  and 
make  treasiires  of  them,  is  significant  of  the  real  reUtion. 

V  m 


^  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

Why  does  he  so  want  these  particuJar  obi-*^-  l 
be  parted  from  Jiem  ?  It  is  n^T   .J**^***"*  ^«  <^annot 
leaving;  he  wants  to  hug  tiem  to  hlT  t    1  ^^^'^^"^ 
w  he  can.  He  will  Jt  T  '}  "^^'^  t^^^m 

en  find  .o  sltk *  ""■"^ 

from  flower  to  flower  and  iTl,  *" 

-not  such « the  ^^f^e  J  Jrr  """r 

dilettante  he.    His  irfAa  «  ♦   k  •      . .        ^  ^"J""- 

contaet  with  the  worid  fa  ;,„f  I  '*'"'.P^»''  l>Md 
«Po»  outer  fact  b:  tS;tth";:r7  "L"^"^ 
•«t«  f«t  into  himsdf  tLt  it  Iv  l!  °f  r  .'""^ng  the 
"Troiy  the  first  pocket ^ 
tific  coJlecti^  ^„  iT","'  ""^  '-Portant  scien- 
ever  make -  d„r.t",K  ^  "^'J^'™™'.  that  he  will 
i^Portan.  thtrt^lrte^t;*^ 

outpMt,  of  the  nuJJ  t         J*'?',  r.""' 


RELATEDNESS  OF  PLAY 


291 


property  in  these,  as  he  has  property  in  tools,  because  in  the 
continued  possession  of  these  the  persistence  and  extension 

of  his  life  is  now  involved.    In  searching  for  treasure  he 

Id.'.  "tJilly  b'^n  searching  for  himself.  Beneath  all  his  hard 
leulism  the  iJ  g  Injun  is  a  good  deal  of  a  mystic;  the  heart 
and  passion  of  his  search  has  been  the  unconscious  convic- 
liov  :  "that  art  thou." 


Every  child  should  have  a  box,  a  drawer,  or  a  closet  of 
his  own  in  which  to  keep  his  treasures,  and  a  piece  of  wall 
to  pin  his  pictures  on.  After  the  pocket,  this  is  the  next 
circle  of  the  widening  personality.  And  in  his  treasure 
house  there  should  be  room  to  classify.  Order  is  the  con- 
dition  of  true  possession.  He  wants  to  a>ntrol,  not  only 
in  the  physical  but  in  the  mental  sense ;  to  understand  his 
world,  not  merely  rub  against  it.  There  is  in  every  child 
a  passion  for  order,  for  handles  to  swing  things  by,  for 
coherence  in  them  that  they  may  be  swung;  for  getting 
them  sorted,  each  kind  in  a  box  to  itself  where  it  can  be 
dealt  with  all  at  once.  Mental  dominion,  unity  through 
order,  is  his  great  desire.  You  have  not  observed  that  he 
was  orderly?  Perhaps  not;  but  there  are  different  kinds 
of  order,  and  different  subjects.  You  and  the  chambermaid 
may  not  agree  about  your  papers,  any  more  than  you  ami 
your  daughter  about  her  cater,  illars.  Sdence  eimI  house- 
keeping o'ten  misunderstand  each  other. 

Next  to  the  treasure  box  comes  the  room  or  lair.  There 
are,  it  is  true,  instincts  at  work  here  other  than  that  of 
organizing  one's  W(Hid.  All  diildren  make  houses  of  chairs ; 
most,  when  given  a  diance,  make  huts  whedior  in  the  woods 
or  from  old  boxes  and  pieces  of  tin  on  empty  lots.  The 
raiding  games  all  recognize  the  homing  instinct.  The 
child's  room  L  thus  partly  a  home  or  place  of  refuge,  and 


292  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

it  is  partly  a  fortress  -  witness  our  universal  preference  for 
havmg  a  rock,  tree,  or  wall  behind  us.   There  is,  further,  in 
our  «ice  a  cadike  attachment  to  places  we  are  used  to- 
the  accustomed  haunt  becomes  so  much  a  part  of  us  that 
we  pine  and  wither  when  away  from  it :  homesickness  shows 
that  we  can  be  wounded  in  this  relation  as  deeply  as  in  our 
visible  body    But  the  .com  -  besides  being  a  lair,  a  refuge, 
and  a  haunt  -  ,s  also  an  extension  beyond  the  treasure  box 
of  the  assimilated  world,  another  ring  of  the  child's  expand- 
.ng  sovereignty.    Henceforth  the  line  between  what  is 
and  what  is  not  himself  will  be  at  his  room  door 

Very  important  is  the  adaptation  of  the  child's  widening 
physical  domain  to  the  selective  principle  within  him.   If  he 
IS  so  environed  that  his  spiritual  hunger  can  find  the  material 
It  needs,  without  starvation  and  without  surfeit,  the  problem 
has  been  solved    The  law  and  possibilities  of  ownership 
^ould  be  prayerfully  considered  to  this  end  by  every  parent 
True  property  is  an  instrument  of  thought,  vibrant,  re- 
sponsive to  the  soul ;  a  predestined  outgrowth  of  the  inform- 
ing mmd.   As  such  it  should  be  adequate,  should  fiU  in  the 
invisible  outline  of  personality  at  each  successive  stage. 
But  beyond  that  it  should  not  extend.    The  estate  likeTe 
body  should  be  lean,  agile,  well  trained.   Adipose  pos- 
sessions are  a  burden  and  an  incumbrance.   Among  grown 
peopk  to-day  it  is  only  the  comparatively  poor  who  enjoy 
the  benefits  of  wealth;  the  rich  are  drowned  in  it,  Hke 
Clarence  in  the  butt  of  malmsey.   As  Emerson  was  obliged 
to  report,  even  half  a  centurj^  ago,  "Things  are  in  the  saddle 
and  nde  mankind."   It  is  the  same  even  more  generally 
mth  unfortunate  children  smothered  in  the  annual  ava^ 
lanche  of  Christmas  toys  -  their  attention  jerked  from  one 
exciting  object  to  another  until  their  tired  nerves  give  way 
and  they  waU  out  their  despair  over  a  world  that  pres8« 


RELATEDNESS  OF  PLAY 


too  heavUy  upon  them.  If  only  it  were  all  candy  with  its 
quick  reaction  and  recovery!    Or  if  officious  elders  would 

permit  the  children  to  carry  out  their  own  instinctive  remedy 
of  smashing  or  immolation  inf  the  nursery  fire,  that  so  their 

irld  might  be  reduced  from  a  nightmare  of  plethora  and 
confusion  to  a  size  that  they  can  organize  and  use ! 

More  important,  of  course,  than  the  question  of  m«e 
amount  is  that  of  right  selection.  It  is  bad  to  eat  too  much ; 
it  is  worse  to  eat  that  which  is  not  food.  My  aim  through- 
out this  book  is  to  show  what  is  food  to  the  spirit  of  the 
growing  child,  to  indicate  at  least  the  main  directions  of  his 
normal  appetite  and  the  changes  that  take  place  in  it  as  he 
develops.  Here  I  wish  to  insist  upon  the  importance  of  a 
regard  for  this  spiritual  hunger,  the  importance  to  his  life  of 
having  the  needed  objects  and  materials  supplied. 

The  relation  is  in  truth  a  vital  one.  His  strength  is 
locked  in  these.  In  appropriate  surroundings  as  much  as 
in  himself  his  future  is  contained.  No  creature  is  strong 
for  all  purposes;  his  power  exists  not  toward  all  objects; 
it  develops  only  in  contact  with  the  things  to  which  Nature 
meant  him  to  react.  As  Achilles  at  the  sight  of  the  sword, 
so  power  in  every  creature  awakes  in  the  presence  of  its 
destmed  counterpart,  and  only  so.  Wonderful  is  the  power 
of  the  eagle  and  the  leaping  sahnon :  but  without  air  or 
water  where  is  their  strength?  So  of  man's  cunning  hand 
without  tools  or  mthout  material,  of  his  cunning  mind 
without  its  related  world,  of  his  aflPections  without  their 
natural  objects.  A  fish  without  water  is  not  a  fish ;  a  bird 
without  air  is  not  a  bird.  As  air  could  be  deduced  from  the 
bird's  wing,  water  from  the  fish's  tail,  so  could  toob  and 
multiform  material  be  inferred  from  the  human  hand,  and 
helpless  infancy,  companions,  home  and  country  be  divined 
from  a  study  of  the  human  heart.   And  as  fish  and  bird 


294  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

find  their  life  in  reaction  to  their  environment,  so  the  child 
exists  or  becomes  alive  only  in  the  presence  of  those  objects 
to  which  his  powers  have  reference.  The  climber  is  born 
of  the  tree,  the  hunter  of  the  quarry,  the  nurturer  of  the  Ufe 

he  serves. 

And  life  inheres  in  the  relation  that  gave  it  birth.  The 
baby  lives  m  companionship  with  its  mother.   That  relation 
M  the  child  -  it  is  his  life.   So  the  bigger  boy  or  girl  lives 
through  contact  with  his  more  varied  world  and  in  play  with 
his  companions.   Except  as  objects  appropriate  to  be  acted 
on  are  present,  the  child  is  not  there.    He  is  a  process,  and 
takes  place  only  as  the  two  poles,  the  positive  and  negative, 
the  soul  and  its  materials,  are  brought  together.    He  lives 
only  m  the  presence  of  his  opportunitN .   Man  is  a  safety 
match :  his  power  is  not  his.  but  lies  in  contact  with  the 
other  half  of  him,  his  worid  and  counterpart. 

Many  people  who  have  realized  the  importance  of  chil- 
dren  s  play  think  that  it  requires  no  special  provision,  for 
the  veiy  reason  Aat  it  is  so  instinctive.   They  assume  that 
the  satisfaction  of  so  universal  an  instinct  is  inevitable.  But 
It  is  not  inevitable.   Eating  is  a  universal  instinct  among 
healthy  people,  but  there  is  such  a  thing  as  starvation.  The 
impulse  IS  inevitable,  in  the  one  case  as  in  the  other,  but 
^ere  may  be  nothing  there  to  meet  it,  or  what  is  there  may 
l^not  food  but  poison.   Play  requires  its  appropriate  ol>. 
jects.-tooi8,  medium,  partner,  playmates;   and  these 
things  are  not  self-providing.    People  sometimes  speak  as  if 
the  child  were  capable  of  evolving  his  own  world  out  of 
nothmg.   He  is  perhaps  a  little  better  at  doing  so  than 
grown-ups.  but  even  he  may  find  the  task  too  hard  for  him 
-  as  a  man  may  have  the  musical  instinct  of  a  Beethoven 
and  yet  not  be  able  to  condense  an  orchestra  out  of  thm  air 
by  the  sheer  force  of  his  ability  to  use  it  if  it  were  forthcoming. 


RELATEDNESS  OF  PLAY 


295 


So,  when  you  think  of  your  own  childhood,  and  remember 
that  playing  was  as  instinctive  as  breathing,  and  that,  as  it 
seems  to  you  in  retrospect,  you  always  found  plenty  of 
chance  to  play  without  any  special  provision  being  made 
for  that  purpose,  remember  also  that  there  was  room  to 
play  and  things  and  other  children  to  play  with,  and  con- 
sider whether  there  may  not  be  children  in  our  modern 
cities  or  on  lonely  country  farms  less  fortunately  placed. 
And  sometimes  even  good  conditions  can  be  improved. 

Teachers  are  important  to  point  out  to  the  child  the  re- 
lations of  the  world  to  him  —  its  confirmations  of  the  presage 
of  his  mind  —  which  the  past  generations  have  discovered. 
Their  function,  besides  inculcating  the  mastery  of  toois, 
like  the  three  R's,  is  to  suggest  categories,  hypotheses, 
pigeon  holes  — help  him  to  form  apperceptive  centers,  as 
the  slang  is  —  through  which  he  may  organize  his  facts  and 
expand  his  mastery  of  them ;  skeleton  regiments  to  receive 
and  drill  the  new  recruits.  Teachers  should  show  the  child 
where  the  handles  of  things  are,  help  him  to  see  the  picture 
in  the  mass  of  bewildering  detail,  construe  the  world  a  little 
for  him,  suggest  the  grammar  of  it  for  his  further  reading. 

But  there  is  one  thing  greater  than  teaching  as  a  prep- 
aration of  the  mind  to  recognize  and  assimilate  its  own, 
and  that  is  imagination.  Imagination  is  the  great  out- 
reaching  power,  the  forward  extension  of  the  master  instincts. 
It  is  their  pioneer,  the  prospector  who  stakes  out  thwr 
claims.  Imagination  sharpens  the  spiritual  appetite  — 
makes  the  mind  sticky  to  the  facts  belonging  to  it,  as  a  magnet 
picks  up  iron  filings  —  prepares  hopeful  preconception,  and  a 
hospit^e  attitude  towaid  tl^  expected  guest. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

THE  niAQINATIVE  .PLAT  OF  THE  BIO  INJUN  AGE 

WuoH  the  imisteit  dedre  to  impersonate  ceases  with 
the  comang  of  the  B,g  Injun  age  -  although  indeed  actual 
revolt  agamst  impersonation  is  characteristic  of  that  age  in 

eLTanTr"'"'"'""^-^^^  impersonating  tTnd- 
ency  or  at  least  the  general  method  of  understanding  things 
that  ,t  reprints,  does  nevertheless  survive  as  an  LntS 
element  m  the  chUd's  play  and  growth. 

In  the  first  place  the  games  of  the  Big  Injun  age.  especially 
of  the  earlier  part  of  it.  include  an  element  of  make-belieT 

men  hunt  the  squirrel  stealing  eggs.  I  spy,  run  sheep 
run.  pr.oners  base-ahnost  every  game,  whether  of  cha^ 
mg.  fighting,  or  throwing  at  a  mark -has  a  name  signify- 

s  more  going  on  than  appears  on  the  outside.  I  have  seen 
m  a  ni^onary  maga^ne  a  picture  of  Chinese  children  pl7y- 

sparrow..  In  many  cases,  it  is  true,  the  names  are  handed 
down  from  times  when  the  games  were  played  by  gro^ 

'  ^^^^^  games  re- 

flected a  ve^  real  superstition,  and  even  that  the  tug  of  war 
feature  in  London  Bridge  represents  the  struggle  of  ang^s 
and  devils  for  a  human  soul.  But  the  sur^  of^^' 
names  means  something,  and  moreover,  where  there  is  no 


IMAGINATIVE  PLAY 


207 


traditioii,  the  children  themselves  usually  give  a  name  sug- 
gesting an  imaginative  meaning.  I  remember  some  boys 
who,  having  invented  a  modification  of  "hunt  the  squirrel "  in 
which  the  aim  of  the  pursuer  was  to  whack  his  fleeing  foe 
with  a  bag  containing  a.  basket  ball,  promptly  christened  it 
Jack  the  Sluggo-.  Some  children  I  toiew  used  to  play  with 
daisies  and  various  weeds  and  grasses,  each  trying  to  knode 
the  heads  off  the  other's  bunch  by  striking  it  with  his  own. 
They  called  a  certain  kind  of  grass  "swords,"  while  a  rank 
yellow-topped  weed  was  named  "dukes,"  on  whom  the 
more  demoontie  species  were  always  taking  signal  vengeance 
for  their  pride  and  <»tentation.  In  fact  I  think  we  all 
know  that  this  sort  of  naming  is  the  rule. 

Just  how  much  the  dramatic  element  suggested  by  such 
names  actually  amounts  to  is  not  easy  to  determine.  It  is 
certainly  no  longer  the  principal  object  of  the  game,  nor 
even  its  secondary  object,  but  has  become  subordinated,  not 
only  to  the  dominating,  competitive  instinct,  but  to  the 
hunting  or  throwing  or  other  accessory  impulses  that  the 
game  fulfills.  But  how  much  does  it  mean?  How  much 
does  a  fox  or  a  red  lion  chasing  you  differ  from  a  mere  "it" 
similarly  engaged?  How  different  is  a  squirrel  or  a  sheep 
from  any  other  sort  of  quarry,  or  a  duck  from  an  ordinary 
piece  of  stone?  In  "Hi  spy"  the  red  lion  has  usually 
been  forgotten  altogether,  and  to  the  crowd  I  played  with  it 
never  occurred  even  that  "  hi "  meant  I.  In  "  hill  dill  "  also 
the  invitation  to  "come  over  the  hill"  has  usually  become 
eMded  --  personally  I  nev»  knew  there  was  any  hill  to  oome 
over. 

And  yet  I  think  these  names  do  stand  for  something, 
especially  at  first.  It  is  a  little  more  exciting  to  be  a  w'aite 
man  pursued  by  an  Indian  than  merely  to  be  Jimmie  chased 
by  Maiy  Ann;  and    "policeman"  strikes  more  terror  to 


298  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

the  heart  of  the  fleeing  "robber"  than  a  less  official  pursuer 
would  do.   There  is  indeed  a  mystic  quality  in  the  very 
notion  of  a  game -a  sense  of  something  unseen  at  stake. 
I  believe  that  even  basebril  and  footbaU  -  even  golf,  tennis, 
whist,  and  other  games  that  make  no  formal  claim  to  a  hidden 
meaning -have  something  of  this  quality.   We  uncon- 
sciously dramatize  them,  and  feel  the  presence  of  a  more 
momentous  issue  than  their  outward  form  would  quite 
account  for.  I  am  sure  that  such  is  the  case  during  the  Big 
Injun  age.  * 

But  the  impersonating  element  in  play  survives  the 
dramatic  age  not  merely  as  an  ingredient  in  games  of  con- 
test  Its  most  recognizable  offspring  is  in  dramatics  proper, 
that  form  of  impersonation  in  which  the  aim  is  no  longer  to 
reahze  an  ideal  to  yourself  but  to  make  it  visible  to  others. 
Dramatics  have  been  a  leading  element  in  the  play  of  primi- 
tive  peoples  and  should  have  a  large  place  in  the  life  of 
children  of  the  Big  In  jun  age,  both  in  the  home  and  on  the 
playground    There  is  no  other  way  in  which  thev  can  so 
enter  into  the  spmt  of  a  story  and  share  it  with  each  other 
as  bv  acting  it    Dramatics  offer  a  very  practicable  road 
into  the  heart  of  literature. 

Children's  dramatics  ought  at  first  to  be  of  the  most  in- 
formal character   The  form  should  never  go  beyond  the 
spmt;  excellence  of  method  should  wait  upon  the  need  of 
accurate  expression.   The  wear  and  tear  of  producing  a 
dramatic  performance  in  which  chikii«n  have  been  "weU 
drilled    IS  almost  more  than  human  nerv-es  can  stand: 
whUe  on  the  other  hand  the  little  productions  they  wiU  get 
up  by  themselves,  with  th..  aid  of  slight  outside  suggestion, 
and  showing  only  such  ;xecution  as  their  own  standard 
demands,  place  httle  strain  on  any  one  and  are  worth  ten 
tunes  as  much  when  all  is  done. 


IMAGINATIVE  PLAY 


390 


A  child's  dramatic  development  should  be  continuous. 
There  should  never  be  a  time,  from  the  day  he  first  acta 
hone  until  he  is  grown  up,  when  that  form  of  expression  is 
not  familiar  to  him.  If  a  gap  occurs,  and  is  allowed  to 
continue  up  to  the  age  of  thirteen  or  so,  he  will  almost 
tainly  become  self-conscious  and  lose  this  form  of  free  expres- 
sion. Summer  playgrounds  and  evening  play  centers  should 
have  many  little  plays,  and  dramatizations  of  fairy  stories 
and  other  things  that  are  read  aloud,  supplemented  by 
games  like  Dumb  Crambo  (impromptu  pantomime)  and  by 
charades.  And  in  every  family  children  ought  to  do  charades 
and  little  dramas  on  Thanksgiving  and  other  famiV  occa- 
sions. 

A  great  deal  b  to  be  done  even  with  grown  people  in 
developing  informal  dramatics.  Miss  Charlotte  Rumbold  has 

told  of  groups  in  St.  Louis  who  reproduce  a  play  of  Shake- 
speare from  what  they  remember  after  seeing  it,  improvising 
the  words  as  they  go  along.  Offhand  dramatization  might 
well  become  as  much  cultivated  as  other  forms  of  sketching. 

Impmonation  also  outlives  the  dramatic  age  not  only  in 
the  drama  but  in  its  original  form,  in  whidi  the  motive  is 
to  make  an  imagined  personality  more  r«il  not  to  other 
people  but  to  one's  self.  The  dramatic  age,  in  fact,  survives 
in  patches;  there  are  occasional  returns  to  the  old  dispensa- 
tion for  a  long  time  after  the  first  coming  of  the  new.  There 
is  the  phase  of  enacting  historic  scenes,  crossing  the  Dela- 
ware, repelling  the  English  at  Bunker  Hill  (with  invariable 
oversight  of  the  final  outcome  of  that  famous  battle).  Girls 
play  dolls  up  to  the  age  of  thirteen  or  so,  and  boys  play  sol- 
diea*  or  Indians  for  an  equal  period,  with  huts,  home  camps, 
and  mudi  crawling  on  the  stomach,  leaping  out  from  ike 
underbrush,  scalping,  taking  and  rescuing  <rf  prisonos  — 
punctuated  of  course  with  the  crack  of  the  scout's  long  and 


800  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

trusty  rifle.   I  remember  years,  contmuiiig  up  to  the  •«  of 

fourteen  during  which  the  customary  greeting  was :  "  Draw 
dog,  and  defend  thyself,"  while  "Thieves,  dogs,  rabbits.  I 
^Lr"  ^^"'t         ?%'-«^°'-ded  sayings  of  Le  Renard 
aibtJ  m  "The  Last  of  the  Mohicans,"  was  a  well-worn  form 
of  repartee.   Some  of  us  also  had  "guns."  with  which  we 
would  charge  bayonets  in  a  long  gleaming  Hne  of  two  against 
our  country's  foes,  while  there  were  frequent  hurried  rally- 
ings  to  the  seashore  to  repel  pirates  (boats  carrving  leg  o' 
mutton  sails)  which  greatly  terrified  us.  although  at  other 
tmies  we  were  on  the  best  of  terms  with  the  friendly  fisher- 
men  who  sailed  them.   Eveiybody  has  felt  the  thrill  of 
Stevenson  s  Lantern  Bearers -an  instance  of  imagination 
inthe  service  of  the  later  conspiring  instinct.  Howell., 
records  how  the  boys  in  his  town  eveiy  year  made  little 
carts  to  go  into  the  woods  and  get  nuts."  although  no  boy 

chi  dren  dig  for  treasure  and  also  bury  treasure  chests  and 
make  other  wonderful  hiding  places  which  they  never  use. 

^ps  some  of  the  cases  I  have  just  cited  should  be 
placed  m  an  mtermediate  dass  between  impersonation 
proper  and  competitive  games  containing  only  a  slight  dra- 
matic element.  The  language  of  chivalry,  for  instance,  was 
accessory  to  a  special  form  of  single  combat  with  wooden 
sword  and  shield,  and  that  of  Le  Renard  Subtil  to  a  style  of 
Indian  warfare  closely  resembling  "robbers  and  policemen" 
m  Its  practical  working  out. 

Children's  building  play  has  usually  an  element  of  the 
dramatic  even  during  the  Big  Injun  age.  I  knew  a  Kttle 
giri  of  seven  to  make  with  stones  a  most  elaborate  represen- 
tation of  Tuscany  in  illustration  of  Horatius.  her  favorite 
poem;  and  I  remember  a  "cHy"  on  the  beach,  oft  con- 
sumed (or  crumbled  hy  the  sun)  and  oft  rebuiWed,  of  which 


IMAGINATIVE  PLAY 


801 


the  principal  fefttiuw,  besides  sand  house*)  uf  the  usual  bee- 
hive shape,  were  a  theater,  a  sea  wall,  and  especially  a  rail- 
road system  with  full  equipment  of  engines  and  rolling  (or 
rather  sliding)  stock,  by  means  of  which  a  lively  trade  in 
corks,  tanbark,  sea  eggs,  and  other  staples  was  carried  on, 
and  whidi  lasted  until  the  citizens  reached  ages  ranging  from 
about  eleven  to  nxteen. 

An  interesting  example  of  the  gradual  change  of  accent, 
in  building  play,  from  the  earlier  set  of  motives  to  the  later 
one  is  in  Stanley  Hall's  "  Story  of  a  Sand  Pile,"  in  which  from 
impersonation  (by  proxy  through  the  wooden  inhabitants  of 
the  dty  whkh  the  children  gradually  built  up)  the  interest 
shifted  to  realism  of  mechanical  execution  in  the  building  of 
houses,  roads,  etc.  — only  the  "people"  themselves,  who,  as 
veritable  daidaloi,  had  become  conventionalized,  continuing 
the  old  regime  in  opposition  to  the  new  spirit  of  improve- 
ment. 


And,  finally,  impersonation  during  the  Big  Injun  age 
sometimes  survives,  not  as  an  accessory  of  some  other  form 
of  play  but  as  a  primary  object.  Boys  sometimes,  I  am  told, 
even  to  the  sere  and  yellow  leaf  of  the  college  age,  will  be 
knii^ts  and  heroes  vwy  smously  in  some  small  circle  of 
their  own.  I  know  a  lady  who  still  stamps  h&  foot  and 
carries  her  head  like  a  spirited  charger,  as  a  result  of  being 
the  Chevalier  Bayard  up  to  the  age  of  fifteen  or  thereabouts ; 
and  a  schoolmaster  has  told  me  that  when  he  was  at  board- 
ing school,  up  to  the  college  age,  he  always  thought  of  him- 
self in  all  his  lessons  and  games  as  performing  some  henac 
action  of  an  entirely  different,  imaginary  sort. 

It  is  to  be  observed  that  in  tliese  cases  the  impersonation 
was  not  of  natural  objects  nor  of  merely  interesting  beings 
like  mothers,  horses,  yadits  —  as  is  so  often  the  case  during 


PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

the  dramatic  age  -  but  always  of  a  personal  ideal ;  and  I 
think  all  n^portant  instances  of  such  survival  will  be  found 
to  be  of  this  sort.    Impersonation  survives,  evidently,  as  a 
method  of  projectbgan  ideal  of  life  and  conduct,  but  not  of 
jmaKining  the  outside  worid.  It  is  JVocbel's  game  of  the 
knights  outlasting  the  dramatic  age.  The  child  uses  it  as  a 
means  of  getting  possession  of  his  ideal  by  taking  the  first 
step  towards  its  realization.   Not  ontent  with  merely 
vwualiang  the  heroic  character,  he  insists  upon  the  more 
realistic  method  of  musculariring  it -learning  not  merely 
the  look  but  the  feel  of  it,  bringing  it  home  in  the  most  iati- 
mate  way,  giving  it  body  and  cariying  power  for  thought  and 
feeling.  ^ 

There  is  great  potential  value  in  impersonation  of  this  sort 
Every  soWier  -  everybody  else  for  that  matter -knows 
the  intimate  relation  between  bodily  carriage  and  moimle. 
lo  stand  right  and  move  right,  especially  if  such  standing 
and  moving  proceeds  outward  from  an  ideal,  is  in  itself  an 
important  part  of  conduct  and  the  beginning  of  much  more. 
To  adopt  the  voice  and  bodily  carriage  of  Bayard  or  King 
Arthur  IS  to  go  some  way  toward  possessing  their  spirit  and 
moral  attitude.   It  creates  a  habit  of  body  and  mind  that 
IS  a  barrier  against  evil  and  must  be  radically  changed  if 
anything  mean  or  cowardly  is  to  be  undertaken. 

Th«e  are  dangers,  of  course,  in  such  a  method.  If  there  is 
a  neglect  steadily  to  translate  the.  ancient  into  the  modem 
requirements,  to  reoogniae  and  respond  to  the  demands  of 
knighthood  as  they  occur  in  actual  daily  life,  the  result  may 
be  disastrous.  There  are  plenty  of  Sentimental  Tommies 
whose  heroism,  like  that  of  the  great  Tartarin.  j>  of  the 
unagmation  only.  But  if  you  can  get  King  Arthur  actually 
to  enter  your  ^1,  and  fight  for  you  in  the  sdiodioom  and  on 
thephygrottnd,hei8a8vahiableanaUya8anybqyneedhave; 


IMAOINATIVE  PLAY  303 

This  surviving  tendency  toward  pure  impersonation  is 
important  not  chiefly  in  itself,  but  as  indicating  the  direction 
of  tbe  panfy  imaginative  play  of  the  Big  Injun  age,  or  at 
least  of  the  ommc  important  part  of  it  Imagination,  now  as 
always,  has  an  essential  part  in  any  act  of  understanding 
and  in  almosr  any  land  "f  .  r  'prprise ,  but  its  greatest  func- 
tion henceforward  Im  to  oaake  tl  <•  first  projertion  of  the  soul 
in  action  —  to  be  ^  earfiest  embodiment  of  the  ideal. 

ImaginatSMi  is  ^  budding  of  new  Itfe.  It  b  action  in 
the  soft,  achipvement  in  its  initial  stSfe.  When  the  boy  acts 
Roland  he  is  taking  the  first  necessary  step  in  becoming  the 
hero  of  some  future  Ronrt  svallcs.  His  impersonation  of 
Launcelot,  the  saga  he  sings  to  himself  over  his  bath  in  the 
morning  and  iirfie»»  "-v  ov^  voieeB  He  away  and  he  can 
hear  the  inner  mm.  xhe  pnyer  that  aballmake  aLaunce* 
lot,  a  Roland  of  him  -  shall  at  least  project  hka  toward  the 
heroic  character  with  such  impetus  as  he  can  manage  to 
gather.  Imagination  is  the  first  reaching  out  of  the  spirit, 
the  &flt  shaping  of  aspiration.  It  lights  up  the  path  that 
thou^t  and  desiie  win  follow.  It  illumines  the  goal  of  action 
and  draws  it  on,  and  through  action  governs  life.  It  is  the 
first  movement  of  growth  and  the  dinctor  of  all  its  later 
processes. 

Do  not  say  that  the  child  of  the  Big  Injun  age  has  no 
imagination,  that  tins  is  a  hard  phiKstine  period  in  which  all 
poetry  for  the  time  at  leart  is  dead.  It  u  a  mistake — the 
grer  t  mistake  of  all  — to  suppose  that  because  the  child 
has  lost  his  illusion  of  the  plasticity  of  the  outer  world,  his 
desire  to  mold  it  as  his  soul  demands  has  lessened,  or  that 
imagination,  his  formo'  means  of  its  summary  transfigura- 
tion, has  disaKwared.  Nothing  could  be  farther  from  the 
truth  The  child,  indeed,  no  longer  possesses  the  magician's 
wand;  make^i^eve  is  no  longo-  tbe  equivalent  (tf  reality. 


304  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

It  is  aJso  true  that,  awakened  to  the  contrast  between  hi. 
goi^eous  fanaes  and  his  puny  power  of  realization,  consdou. 
of  thendicule  a  disclosure  of  his  dreams  may  bring  on  him, 

child^T  ^  the 

chUd  of  the  B,g  Injun  age  is  shyest  and  most  difficult  to 

teme.  To  most  people  he  fa  utterly  impenetrable.  Many 

boys,  perhaps  the  majority,  are  so  to  all  grown-ups,  incS 

J  °f  imagination. 

saddest  and  most  fatal  mfaundenrtandings  between  chUdren 
and  their  parents  or  teachers  arise  from  the  faUure  on  the 

UfTn/r'^rf     '  •"^^"^'ty  of  this  inner 

Me,  or  from  their  supposing  that  the  child's  real  thought  is 
«mple  or  «isay  visible  to  them.   If  that  is  your  idea  you 
have  not  taken  thefirststepmtheund^^^ 
of  this  or  any  other  age. 

^^method  of  those  who  really  understand  fa  described  by 

fhl?^  T  ^7  ''^^''"^'^         a"  the  secrets  of 

the  forest,  of  plan^.  of  birfs.  of  beasts,  of  reptUes.  of  fish.^ 

b  rd  flTr"!^^'''"^  When  he  goes  into  the  woods,  the 
birds  fly  before  him  and  he  finds  none ;  when  he  goes  to  Z 
nver  bank,  the  fish  and  the  reptile  swim  away^d  leave 
h«n  alone.   His  secret  fa  patience;  he  sits  down  and  ^I! 

treirT*'  'r.  • ''''  '^^'^  - 

value  for  their  time,  and  he  must  put  as  low  a  rate  on  hfa 

^  tts  lm    i^^'^'''''  begin  to 

1.  passive  as  the 

stone  he  sits  upon.  They  lose  their  fear    They  have 

TJTZtJl'^''^'-  »y."<»»»ythecuriosityma3Lth 
fear,  and  thv  «m»e  wmnining,  creeping  and  flying  toward. 


DfAGINATiyE  FLAY 


ao8 


him:  and  as  he  is  still  unmovable,  they  not  only  resume 
thfcif  haunts  and  th«r  ordinary  labors  and  manners,  show 
themselves  to  him  in  thdr  vnxkday  trim,  but  also  vdunteer 
some  degree  of  advances  towards  fellowship  and  good  under- 
standing with  a  biped  who  behaves  so  civilly  and  well.  Can 
you  not  baffle  the  impatience  and  passion  of  the  child  by 
your  tranquillity? 

"Can  you  not  wait  for  him,  as  Nature  and  Providence  do  ? 
Can  you  not  keep  for  his  mind  and  ways,  for  his  seoet,  the 
same  curiosity  you  give  to  the  squirrel,  snake,  rabbit,  and 
the  sheldrake  and  the  deer?  He  has  a  secret;  wonderful 
methods  m  him ;  he  is,  —  every  child,  —  a  new  style  of 
man;  give  him  time  and  opportunity.  Talk  of  Columbus 
and  Newton !  I  tell  you  the  child  just  bom  in  yonder  hovel 
is  the  beginning  of  a  revolution  as  great  as  theirs." 

The  Big  Injun,  in  spite  of  his  hard  practicality,  his  hunger 
for  the  concrete,  is  an  idealist  at  heart.  It  is  indeed,  as  we 
have  seal,  the  very  insistence  of  his  ideals  that  has  given 
him  his  hunger  for  actuality.  Imagination  is  not  opposed 
to  the  obsessing  desire  for  self-assertion,  but  is  on  the  con- 
trary an  essential  part  of  it.  It  is  the  first  stirring,  necessaiy 
preliminary  to  authentic  outward  projection,  of  the  true 
self.  In  every  child,  at  his  most  philistine  period,  the 
poetry  is  still  thoe,  the  first  and  most  important  element  of 
growth,  though  the  stream  has  mideaafy  sunk  uiMlaground 
and  left  onfy  the  hard  dry  crust  visiUe  to  a  supeifidal 
observer. 

Invagination  at  the  age  we  are  now  considering,  although 
surviving  unpersonation  gives  the  key  to  it,  takes  commonly 
a  more  abstract  form.  The  diiki,  become  acutely  oraadous 
of  the  contrast  between  the  imagined  and  the  real,  boQib 
his  castles  out  of  confessedly  imaginary  materials.  W§ 
method  is  sometimes  that  of  the  daydraam  —  long,  long 


306  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

thoughts  of  what  he  is  to  do  or  be.  of  the  princess  he  will 
rescue,  the  dragons  he  will  slay,  the  better  social  order  he 
wiU  build.  As  the  boy  is  father  to  the  man,  so  is  the  day- 
dream  the  special  moment  of  his  parenthood.  It  is  the 
source  to  which,  if  aU  goes  weU  with  him,  the  stream  wiU 
ultimately  rise.  The  man  is  the  mcamation  of  what  the 
child  has  done,  and  the  first  form  and  instance  of  the  child's 
doing  is  in  his  dream. 

Or  the  method  may  be  that  of  heroic  fiction.  Children 
often  tell  stories  to  each  other.   They  tell  about  when  they 
were  sailors  m  that  strange  grown-up  past  in  which  such 
wonderful  tHngs  take  place, -the  past  golden  age  which 
IS  really  a  first  rough  sketch  of  future  glories.   Perhaps  they 
der-:ribe  "whac  they  did  when  they  were  little"  —  some  three 
inches  high  -  and  went  to  sea  on  toy  boats ;  how  they  passed 
through  those  harrowing  but  triumphant  experiences  at 
boarding  school;  how  they  met  Faiiy  Cross^cks  yesterw 
day,  or  the  Ghost  with  the  Bare  Nose,  and  of  the  conversa- 
tion that  ensued.   Such  narratives  are  continued  at  intei^ 
vals,  like  a  serial  story,  for  months,  -  sometimes  for  years 
And  a  great  part  of  the  unaginative  life  is  now  in  reading 
or  heanng  books  and  stories.  Vast  and  fascinating  reahns 
are  opened  out  which  the  child  recognizes  and  appropriates 
as  his  own  and  in  which  he  wanders  with  delight. 
^  T^ese  various  methods  of  imagining  are  not  very  different 
m  effect   From  listening  to  the  story  of  Robin  Hood,  or 
telhng  each  other  the  stoiy  of  when  you  and  I  were  Robin 
Hood  and  Little  John,  to  going  out  and  being  Robin  Hood 
m  the  back  lot,  the  change  is  chiefly  one  of  form.   If  there  is 
grater  intensity  in  the  more  active  method,  there  is  greater 
freedom  in  the  other.  As  you  sit  looking  in  the  fire  while 
your  mother  reads,  you  can  always  be  Robin  Hood  yourself 
-or  Sir  Qtkbad,  Tom  Sawyer,  Tom  ftown,  Heidi,  Sir 


IMAGINATIVE  PLAY 


907 


Launoelot,  Sir  Tiamarack,  or  Sir  Bors  de  Ganis,'  as  the  case 
may  be  —  while  in  actual  iiiq)asonatioii  thm  mi^  be  diffi- 
culties; other  children  are  so  mean,  they  always  want  the 
best  parts  for  themselves.  But  whatever  the  comparative 
merits  of  the  different  methods  the  experience  in  all  three 
cases  is  essentially  the  same.  In  all  these  heroes,  whether 
heard  about  or  impersonated,  the  child  recognizes  himself, 
finds  the  first  expansion  of  what  he  feels  that  he  is  meant  to 
be.  It  is  the  experimental  modeling  of  action  in  material 
furnished  by  the  imagination,  as  a  sculptor  models  his  statue 
in  day  b^ore  it  is  cut  in  stone. 

And  the  need  whidi  all  these  forms  oi  imagination  fulfill  in 
the  child  of  the  Big  Injun  age  u  a  need  commoo  to  all  chil- 
dren and  to  aU  mankind  —  the  need  to  draun. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 


THE  IItEED  to  dream 


Ita!  business  of  life  is  the  translation  of  ideals  into  action, 
fa  this  business  there  are  two  essential  parts :  interpreting 
the  Ideal  and  mastering  the  outward  conditions  of  its  realiza- 
tion.  Or,  to  put  it  in  another  way.  there  are  two  duties  m 
this  world  and  only  two :  to  find  out  what  it  is  you  want 
to  do,  and  to  do  it.   To  these  two  processes  there  are  t  vo 
P*rts  of  education  to  correspond,  namely,  the  development 
of  imagmation,  and  the  study  of  the  outer  world.   The  Big 
Injun,  as  we  have  seen,  is  obsessed  to  find  out  about  the 
outer  world;  but  he  is  equally  obsessed,  though  less  visibly 
so,  to  setforth  in  imagination  the  demands  of  his  own  soul. 
It  IS  indeed  largely  the  power  of  imagination  that  makes  his 
contact  with  reality  so  fierce  and  resolute. 

The  need  of  imagining  -  what  I  have  caUed  the  need  to 
dream-,s  the  need  of  building  castles  in  the  air  befor* 
trying  our  architectural  conceptions  upon  the  tougher 
susceptibilities  of  bricks  and  mortar.  This  .  eed  is  vital 
absolute,  and  universal.  Such  dreaming  is  a  part  of  the  life 
process  a  necessary  step  in  the  transition  from  instinct 
through  achievement  into  growth. 

Life  consists  in  putting  together  again  the  world  which 
the  disillusion  of  the  Big  Injun  age  has  torn  apart.  The 
reunitmg  of  desire  and  actuality,  the  subjection  of  outer 
nature  and  of  our  own  acts  to  our  ideal  -  su  Ji  is  the  aim 
of  all  human  stnvmg.  the  inclusive  object  wWch  we  aU  seek. 
The  successful  man  is  he  who  can  perform  the  mirade  of 

306 


THE  NEED  TO  DREAM  309 

Orpheus,  make  sticks  and  stones  and  trees  and  animals,  and 
perhaps  finally  hb  own  body  and  impulses,  obey  the  inner 
music. 

This  reconstruction  of  our  worW  is  not  a  simple  process. 
An  instinct  cannot  be  translated  immediately  into  outward 
acts :  from  inspiration  to  execution  is  more  than  a  single 
step.  Between  the  first  stirring  of  the  god  within,  felt 
merely  as  a  pain,  to  the  laying  of  one  stone  upon  another  in 
the  growing  edifice,  there  is  a  worid  of  effort  and  endurance 
to  be  faced.  It  is  in  this  interval  that  aU  the  important 
questions  are  decided  —  the  questions  of  life  and  death  and 
of  the  degree  of  life  to  be  attained.  It  is  here  that  the 
moral  drama  is  enacted,  that  the  pain  of  daring  or  of  wait- 
ing, the  very  throe  of  creation,  is  undergone.  When  the 
definite  purpose  has  been  formed,  the  fight  Is  already  lost  or 
won. 

And  in  this  process  of  translation  from  crude  instinct  to 
finished  act  the  first  conscious  step  is  the  dreaming  of  the 
dream,  the  seeing  in  a  vision  what  the  soul  demands.  You 
cannot  form  a  purpose,  you  cannot  even  make  a  plan,  until 
out  of  the  center  of  your  unrest  there  has  condensed  itself 
some  first  presentment  of  the  object  to  be  sought.  To 
translate  direcUy  from  a  divine  discontent  into  the  outline 
of  a  finished  poem  or  statue  or  poUtical  institution  is  impos- 
sible.  You  cannot  draw  up  specifications  from  a  mere  un- 
easmess :  the  ideal  must  take  on  form  and  color  in  the  mind, 
must  become  alive,  irradiated,  possessed  with  brilliancy  and 
momentum,  if  it  is  to  give  its  law  to  overt  act  or  to  any  plan 
for  such.  This  is  the  crucial  process  in  every  act  and  in 
every  life.  It  is  the  prerequisite  of  all  success. 

And  the  degree  erf  success  will  depend  upon  the  fullness  of 
the  vision.  The  more  concrete  your  ideal  — the  more 
vividly  it  Uves  and  acts  in  you  —  the  mor«  adequately  will 


810  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

it  be  possible  to  sketch  its  out'ine  and  fit  a  plan  to  it.    If  die 
^on  ,s  full  of  hfe  and  color,  you  may  by  good  fortune 
reduce  some  suggestiou  of  it  t  -  the  shaip  lines  preroquisite 
to  practical  achievement.   Your  plan  may  in  that  case  have 
some  touch  of  the  living  truth,  contain  some  hint  of  the 
gloiy  that  lives  in  the  h^  of  a  creative  instinct  and  that 
was  the  divine  source  of  your  attempt   And  it  is  only  so 
that  you  can  hope  to  seize  and  give  explosion  to  the  pushing 
life  withm.   First  build  with  air  and  rainbow;  you  wiU 
show  yourself  an  able  architect  if  you  can  catch  one  half 
the  b«uty  the  god  has  whispered  to  you,  even  in  such  easily 
wrought  material. 

The  seeing  of  the  vision  is  not  an  ea^  thing.  To  see  at 
all  IS  given  only  to  those  who  will  possess  their  soul  in  pati«ice 
tiU  the  vision  comes.    It  was  no  false  report  of  the  world's 
artist  race  that  represented  the  god  as  first  appearing  in  a 
doud.  TVwudatmg  the  word  into  the  image  is  like  drawing 
from  memory    The  thing  first  appears  as  a  face  in  the 
mist,  a  vague  leading  here,  an  adumbration  there.  The 
process  of  reducing  it  to  possession  is  like  taming  a  wild 
feature.   To  go  a  step  beyond  the  revelation  is  to  lose  it 
It  fle«  from  sudden  reduction  to  crude  lines.  You  must 
watch  by  the  spring,  sometimes  for  months,  lucky  if  you 
catch  m  its  surface  a  moment's  reflection  of  Pegasus  among 
the  clouds.   And  when,  by  some  happy  insight,  you  have 
won  a  ghmpse  of  your  ideal,  the  danger  is  that  you  go  awav 
about  your  business -the  busy,  comfortable,  easy  part  of 
execution -and  straightway  forget  what  mamier  of  man 
you  were,  what  you  truly  had  it  in  you  to  reveal.  The 
spmt  comes  and  goes  as  it  will  and  must  not  be  too  rashly 
interrogated.    Specifications  too  soon  demanded  imply  a 
fatal  error.    But  to  him  who  will  wait  and  hsten  the 
JMssage  may,  m  a  lucky  moment,  become  aUve,  take  on 


THE  NEED  TO  DEEAM  311 

power  ud  brilliancy,  and  mold  both  him  and  outward 
things  to  serve  it 

I  tan  one  who  when 
Love  inspires  me  take  note,  and  in  the  way 
That  he  doth  sing  within,  I  go  and  tdl  it. 

It  was  a  great  moment  in  the  history  of  art  when  Dante 
took  note  of  love's  inspiration,  greater  even  than  when  he 
went  and  told.   This  is  the  idolatry  that  is  also  true  religion 
the  settmg  up  of  an  ideal  image  in  the  heart. 

Imagination  is  the  beginning  of  true  action.  But  it  also 
m  a  sense  contains  the  end.  For  there  is  this  difference 
between  vision  and  execution :  executioii  proceeds  by  steps; 
It  IS  methodical  and  deals  with  one  thing  at  a  time.  Inspirap 
tion  is  of  the  whole,  a  vision  of  the  finished  product;  its 
office  IS  to  govern  both  plan  and  execution.  If  the  true  end 
IS  not  there  at  the  beginning,  the  whole  work  wUl  be  cold 

and  uninspired.  Achievement  begins  not  at  the  beginning, 
but  at  the  end.  »» 

It  is  true  of  dreaming  in  any  form,  as  of  impersonation, 
that  It  has  its  dangers.  The  dream,  if  it  remains  a  dream 
may  be  not  a  step  in  successful  action,  but  a  dereUction  from 
It.  The  vision  of  the  ideal  and  the  pUnning  of  the  concrete 
accomplishment  should  draw  together.  The  great  architect 
has  learned  to  dream  in  stone  —  feeling  the  limitations  of  his 
material,  not  separately,  but  in  combination  with  his  vision. 
But  still  m  all  great  art,  m  creative  action  of  every  sort,  the 
dream  is  there.  A  man  can,  it  b  true,  win  much  appwent 
success  and  yet  not  be  a  dreamer.  He  can  be  an  accepted 
devotee  of  the  goddess  of  efficiency,  whom  we  now  so  devouthr 
worship;  but  yet  he  will  not  be  a  successful  man;  his  action 
not  proceeding  truly  from  himself,  wiU  not  beloAg  to  him 


312  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

nor  be  a  fulfillment  of  his  life.  It  is  to  go  for  and  fast. 
It  is  better  still  to  know  wbere  you  are  going. 

Life  comes  to  us  from  behind  the  veil;  it  wells  up  from 
some  source  other  than  ourselves.  Incarnation  proceeds 
through  our  own  act  in  reducing  the  crude  impulse  to  such 
form  of  utterance  as  we  can  find  for  it;  and  the  first  form 
we  give  it  is  the  dream.   The  Ufe  process  is  one  of  alternation : 
first,  listening  to  the  ideal  and  trying  to  form  an  image  of 
Its  prompting,  then  turning  to  the  practical  Umitations  of 
our  nature  and  our  materials  and  attempting  to  strike  it 
mto  some  working  form,  then  back  to  the  vision  and  Irom 
that  again  to  execution.   It  is  alternate  sleeping  and  waking, 
dreaming  and  attempted  realization;  and  with  each  true 
attempt  the  vision  itself  grows  more  defined.   The  danger 
13  that  we  become  governed  not  by  our  dream  but  by  the 
exigencies  and  limitations  of  our  material  and  of  practical 
life,  find  some  smart  and  easy  way  that  succeeds,  but  involves 
a  forgetting  of  what  we  started  out  to  do. 

Action  is  indeed  itself  a  kind  of  sleep,  a  forgetting  of  what 
you  meant  to  do  m  the  stress  of  doing  it.   There  is  an 
anaesthesia  of  action,  a  self-hypnotisation,  a  shutting  off  of 
the  intellectual  faculties  —  as  seen  in  the  tiger  about  to 
spring,  and  as  cultivated  in  a  dog  which  has  been  taught  to 
"point."  A  study  of  the  absence  of  this  self-hypnotizing 
power  of  the  practical  man  is  seen  in  Hamlet,  the  man  who 
still  ponders  when  he  ought  to  shut  off  the  thinking  faculty 
and  get  to  work.   The  opposite  and  far  moi«  common  vice 
has  yet  to  find  its  Shakespeare  —  that  of  the  practical  man 
who,  in  the  meeting  of  insistent  claims  for  action,  never 
wakes  up,  never  remembers,  or  stops  to  look  once  more 
toward  the  heights  he  started  to  attain.    As  action  is  sleep, 
so  It  IS  when  he  has  hb  dream  that  the  man  is  truly  awake. 


THE  NEED  TO  DREAM  313 

It  is  in  the  moment  of  vision  that  lie  is  alive  to  the  larger 
issues,  and  sees  liimself  and  his  aims  as  they  truly  are.  I 
wiU  lift  up  mine  ves  unto  the  hiUs  whence  cometh  my  help. 

Our  dream  must  be  reduced  to  Action,  brought  down  to 
earth -that  is  a  vital  if  obvious  part  of  life's  procedure. 
But  the  process  must  not  begin  there.  First  catch  your 
drewn.  In  order  that  it  may  be  reduced  to  reaUty  it  must 
first  exist. 

The  dream  is  then,  according  to  my  contention,  an  essen- 
tial  part  of  the  technique  of  living.    It  is  of  the  very  grammar 

u-Jf^rTi^*  ^*  ^""^        one  that  every 

chiW  should  know.  Kcturi..g  to  himself  a  heroic  life  is  a 
necessary  step  in  the  expresnon  of  his  mstinct  to  be  some- 
body,  to  have  a  Kfe  of  his  own,  to  assert  himself  as  an  original 
and  creative  force.  Imagination  is  the  law  of  the  oak  becom- 
ing conscious,  the  invisible  projection  of  the  future  tree 
It  IS  the  first  form  of  the  striving  to  become,  the  forward 
throe  of  conscious  purpose  in  the  soul. 

And  what  is  true  of  life  in  general  is  true  <rf  every  form  of 
Its  expression  and  of  each  specific  act.  The  dreanf  is  as 
necessary  to  the  building  of  a  bridge,  the  carrying  on  of  a 
campaign,  the  invention  of  a  machine,  as  it  is  to  the  writing 
of  a  poem  or  the  living  of  a  heroic  life. 

How  can  the  need  to  dream  be  recognized  in  education? 
How  can  the  power  of  seeing  visions  be  cultivated? 

First,  we  must  allow  ample  room,  as  in  the  kindergarten, 
for  the  training  of  the  child's  imagination  during  the  dramatic 
age,  Its  greatest  period  of  growth,  neither  reducing  education 
at  this  period  to  a  traimng  of  the  sense  of  touch,  nor  making 
It  what  IS  called  practical.  The  precious  years  that  nature 
has  set  aside  for  the  accomphshment  oi  this  major  purDose 
must  not  be  lost. 


814  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


Second,  we  should  extend  beyond  the  kindergarten  ths 
use  of  symbols,  which  stand  in  the  mind  for  that  residuum 
of  the  ideal  that  cannot  as  yet  be  definitely  imagined  or  con- 
caved. The  symbol  —  a  flag,  a  cross,  the  image  of  a  man 
—  stands  like  a  star  st  the  point  where  the  vista  ends,  a 
provisional  representation  of  what  is  stiU  beyond  our  sight 
Something  in  hand  the  whilst:  the  symbol  satisfies  our 
hunger  for  a  concrete  presentation  of  the  ideal ;  not  claiming 
itself  to  be  the  revelation,  it  marks  the  spot  where,  according 
to  our  hope,  the  miracle  will  at  last  be  wrought.  The  pro- 
cedure of  reducing  ideals  to  action  is  not  unlike  the  mathe- 
matical device  of  assuming  a  solution  of  a  problem  as  a 
means  of  solving  it.  The  symbol  stands  for  x,  the  sou^t 
but  unknown  quantity  in  our  life  problem. 

A  favorite  building  material  of  the  imagination  is  music. 
Coming  before  poetry  in  the  order  of  development  —  or 

earlier  brandiii^  off  from  the  common  root  <rf  singsong  

it  is  for  many  minds  the  first  of  the  concentric  rings  thrown 
off  by  tbe  soul  in  action.   The  empire  of  the  air  which  Jean 
Paul  Richter  claimed  as  the  heritage  of  Ms  country  after 
the  Napoleonic  wars,  like  the  one  which  Ariel  made  for 
Prospero,  was  largely  built  ot  music.   When  Father  Jahn 
started  his  Turn  Vereins,  with  their  songs  and  gymnastics, 
he  founded  the  Germany  that  now  is.   That  was  a  dream. 
And  what  has  come  of  it?   Was  it  practical  ?  AsktheEng- 
Ibh,  or  our  own  busmess  men  who  meet  the  Gennans  in 
neutral  markets  at  the  present  time.»  Chfldren  and  nations 
sing  before  they  talk.   Music  gives  form,  actuality,  momen- 
tum, freed  from  subjection  to  detail.   It  is  the  first  trans- 
lation of  the  soul  in  sound.   We  should,  by  choruses  and 
orchestras,  by  encouraging  every  kind  of  music  from  the 

» Thii  waa  writtoi  before  the  present  terrible  war  began  Its 
imiilieatkm  wfll  beoome  true  again  whatevw  the  retolt  of  the  oo&fliet. 


THE  NEED  TO  DREAM  315 

violin  to  the  Jew's-harp,  bring  out  the  musical  power  of  our 
<AUdren.  As  Mr.  Crothers  has  pointetl  out.  if  we  have  lood 
chorua  aiogbg  there  Is  no  longer  any  need  of  war. 

And,  finally  there  are  fury  stories,  stories  of  the  heroes 
"f  history  and  myths  which  an  better  because  truer  than 
h^tory  A  chUd  should  not  be  fed  to  any  great  extent  on 
books  of  useful  mformation.  It  is  true  that  if  the  instruc  ■ 
H  "i^  .  *  ^  •«  in  the  case  of  some  of  the 
Rollo  Books.  It  has  Its  place  as  feeding  the  scientific  side  of 
the  Big  I^jun  nature.  Such  stories,  however,  wiU  never  be 
the  most  miportant,  and  can  in  no  wise  take  the  phMse  d 
those  of  the  imaginative  class.   Charles  Lamb  had  the  right 

"J^^  ^"  exaggeration: 

Mrs.  Bari«uld's  stuff  has  banished  aU  the  old  classics  of 

Mr/rr'u/     ^"^^  Mgnificant  and  vapid  as 
Mrs^  Barbauld's  books  convey,  it  seems,  must  come  to  the 
chUd      .  and  his  empty  noddle  must  be  turned  with  con- 
ceit of  his  own  powers,  when  he  has  learned  that  a  horse  is 
an  anima^  «,d  Billy  is  better  than  a  horse,  and  suchTL 
instead  of  that  beautifd  interest  in  wUd  tales,  which  maS 
the  child  a  man,  while  all  the  time  he  suqiected  himself  to 
be  no  bigger  than  a  child.   Science  has  succeeded  to  poetry 
and  no  less  m  the  little  walks  of  chUdren  than  of  meris 
there  no  possibility  of  arresting  this  force  of  evH?  Think 
what  you  wou^d  have  been  now  if  instead  of  being  fed  with 
tales  andoIdWfablesinchiW^ 

Mth  geography  and  natural  history.  Han^  them  1  I  mean 
t^.  cursed  Barbauld  crew,  those  bHghts  and  Wasts  of  aB 
uittt  IS  human  m  man  and  child." 

Literature  is  a.  mold  into  which  the  child's  life  in  the 
imagmation  may  be  run.  There  is  this  great  difference 
between  that  1  fe  as  carried  on  m  listening  H^T^Z 
evoived  out  of  his  own  im«r  consciousness;  namely,  th^ 


3W  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


myth  Mid  itory  present  the  ideal  not  merely  of  the  indiv  idual 
but  of  the  race.  Literatim  is  to  auldnd  what  impersona  - 
tion is  to  the  small  child.  It  is  the  dream  of  Man,  the  gfr- 
geous  presentation,  through  the  -^cclJm^uatf•^l  genii, s  of  'he 
race,  of  what  al!  the  a^rs  have  divi.K,]  of  humn-.i  destiny, 
the  total  pn)phecy  of  what  the  huii  ni\  Mml  deiuands.  Litera- 
ture is  the  vehicle  in  which  the  visions  of  all  the  poets,  th*- 
dreams  of  all  the  prophets,  are  handed  down.  The  biological 
importaxice  of  infancy,  to  which  man  owi  .  so  much,  s  due, 
fls  we  have  said,  to  the  man  i  Irft  in  it  f  t  cdiK  ation,  nd' 
largely  t(  the  child's  imitatAe  and  social  niati  ts  which 
insure  h»  seekmg  to  be  educated,  ai  d  si  attaining  a  social, 
a  1 1 1  t :  refore  c«mu]«tive  inheritance.  His  mind  tmd  heart 
ill  tliw  way  become  heirs  to  what  all  the  generations  of 
the  raci"  have  harned.  Anr!  it  is  in  the  form  of  lite?at«rp 
that  till  precious  inher  tanci  is  passed  along. 

S^nertion  k  all-powerful  in  this  realm  of  the  transn  ion 
<rf  ideab.  Evro  in  pur^  i^tMcal  p«forR»nce^  one  set  s 
the  effect  of  prccedei^.  A  new  record  in  the  nigh  jump 
raises  the  vcrage  performance  a  fraction  of  an  ich.  'n 
morals  much  greater  results  are  possible.  IT.  roi-  i.  idv. 
ture,  moral  ehterpris^,  are  largely  trarlitiu  il.  ij  ,r  (  ncep- 
tion  of  the  posinbSities  of  hunum  daring  i  ;  .ot  u  product. 
Heroes  have  progeny  wherever  th^  deeds  re  told-  ^fytia 
and  fairj  storus.  sketchinp  in  rai'  ^  br  ^Mritu-^^' 
demands,  with  a  royal  disregard  of     y-  r  iti.  -is,  ;  . 

to  the  child  the  rough  draft  (  "  hi      ^  .  gji 

tion,  led  by  these,  illumines  the  pa  =  t .  ul  ?  wnrk  Sicti 
will  wk  results  woaderful  m  thi^se  wrong  A  din 
with  his  lamp. 

Poetry  jg  not  m«^y  sc^-iething  m:  h;  in  its  vv.dest  o^nse, 
of  creative  imae  lation.  it  is  the  pr  ^ess  of  !  making  — 
the  first  form  ot    '  the     rks  of  mt  n.   It  is  thf  original  and 


THB  NEI3>  TO  DREAM  317 

iiiv»  in  every  enterprise.  A  deed  that  ia  not  an 
emM^  potm  is  not  •«  act,  did  noi  proceed  from  the 
man.  but  happened  to  him  ike.  f«n  or  a  d«eMe.  And  all 

Ii=  Future,  as  distinguish^.,  from  encydopedias,  raBway 
.'u.  ...  and  other  works  of  u.,oful  information,  is  poetry  at 
heart.  It  IS  prophetic.  Its  function  is  to  stake  out  new 
cx^n«mm  ol  the  .pWt  To  c  !,Udhood,  with  its  vague  but 
m W  outlook  and  mdl  effectiveness,  this  bodying  forth 
t  ic,  l-won  ideals  -  drawing  the  thirst  f  r  Itfe 
t.-ar  '  .b,  objects -is  of  vital  consequence,  i  is  « 
mu  tin  growth  as  aire      ,d.   No  child  has  had 

a  fair  laer  life  who  has  not  be.  .rought  up  amon«  th. 
.'-^t  tf  i  tv  V  stories.  There  should  be  in  everv 
*ii  i  veall  every  famOy,  reading  aloud,  the  atoiw 
?  of  the  memory  wii  the  music  of  great  literatttw, 
at  ^eak  directly  to  the  soul  ai-d  give  canying  ' 
^reat  ideas. 

Sefeoob  and  playgrounds  and  soHal  centers,  by  reading 
aloud  and  story-telling,  by  dasj.^  ^  pannts  as  weU  i*s  for 
chUdren,  by  libraries  and  literar  by  having  compe- 

tition  of  rival  poets,  new  and  01  other  occasions  to 

V    ch  the  Muses  are  invited,  ma         4ich  to  aid  in  this 
respect 

It  ia  a  pity  that  so  many  people  think  it  necessary  to  im- 
prove upon  the  forms  in  which  the  great  mytha  and  stories 

have  come  down  to  us.  to  bring  them  up  to  date  by  inserting 
examples  of  then-  own  literary  style  into  these  masterpieces. 
And  then  there  <rf>  the  frankly  raw  and  hideous  productions, 
above  aU,  the  funny  picture  book  — grotesque,  nauseating.' 
that  shrieks  across  the  crowded  Christma?  shop  b  colors 
that  almost  blind  the  eye,  and  must  permanently  warp  the 
sensibUities  of  the  unfortunate  children  who  are  subjected  to 
them.  It  would  be  as  good  a  deed  as  any  child  lover  could 


to 


318  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


perform  to  clear  the  stream  of  childrai's  litemture  now 
muddied  by  catchpemiy  devices  to  pleue  foolish  and  un- 
educated parents. 

We  must  feed  the  imagination  and  allow  it  scope  if  we 
would  have  the  child  grow  up.  Imagination  b  the  first 
step  in  the  life  process;  it  is  the  material  out  of  which  all 
achievement  is  condensed,  the  medium  through  which  the 
ideal  passes  mto  thought  and  action  and  through  them 
shapes  body  and  mind  to  serve  it 


BOOK  V.   THE  AGE  OF  LOYALTY 


CHAPTER  XXXVH 

THE  BELONGING  INSTINCT 

At  about  the  age  of  eleven,  as  early  as  nine  in  some  cases 
and  as  late  as  twelve  in  others,  coincidently  with  the  sudden 
upward  tarn  in  his  curve  of  growth,  the  boy  begins  to  play  not 
as  an  mdi  vidual  against  otim  mdividuds  but  as  a  member  of 
a  team  against  other  teams.  He  piays  ho&tSi,  UAst  ball 
hockey;  his  basebaU  takes  the  form  of  sides;  his  major  in- 
terest IS  m  the  great  team  games.  Individualbtic  games,  it  is 
toie.  stiU  continue;  individual  rivalry  has  even  increased. 
lUeBig  Injun  apbit  aurvive*  in  more  than  its  former  strength, 
but  It  IS  no  longer  wpnane;  it  beoone  subordinated 
to  a  mightier  power. 

The  boy  begins,  at  about  the  same  time  or  a  little  later, 
to  feel  more  strongly  than  before  the  necessity  of  meeting 
certain  other  boys  every  day  -  to  play  a  game,  if  favored  by 
surroundings  and  good  ph^r  traditiona,  but  anyway  to  meet, 
for  purposes  which  seem  to  him  sufficient  His  life  is  now 
in  this  companionship ;  it  has  become  his  mUimt,  his  social 
complement,  his  world,  as  necessary  to  him  as  a  mother 
to  .h^diild.   This  relation  pervades  his  Ufe  and  every- 
thing he  does.  If  he  wdks.  swims,  rides,  makes  jokes, 
convey  ,t„M,.a«nberofahorfe.  The g«itle passion 
Itself  finds  gang  expression,  chiefly  in  the  of  sex 

antagonism.  His  speech  and  auumsfs  soon  rinnr  eflects  of 

819 


320  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

this  new  allegiance.   He  comes  home  full  of  strange  oath., 

mbell^ed  and  enkrged  vocabulary.  He  has  adopted  new 
stondards.  less  civili«rf  but  more  heroic,  a  new  moral  and 
even  physical  attitude  toward  the  world.  The  expression 
of  his  face  has  changed.  ■ 

What  has  produced  these  and  other  notable  results  has 
been  the  awakening  in  the  boy  of  the  spirit  of  membership. 
His  paramount  desire  now  is  to  belong:  to  live  and  act 
auo^ed  or  f  aU  -  to  suffer  if  need  be  -  not  as  an  in^Wdud 
but  as  a  n  ember  of  a  social  whole  made  up  of  boy.  of  his 
own  age ;  and  the  effects  of  this  new  desire  are  seen  in  evenr- 
tinng  he  does,  ^at  England  «q,ects  wiU  henceforthle 
his  chief  guide  to  conduct. 

The  thing  that  has  happened  to  him  in  the  coming  of  this 
n^  spirit  .nto  his  life  is  the  last  and  most  important  of  aS 
his  metamorphoses.  The  spirit,  however,  is  not  wholly  new. 
Things  do  not  happen  as  suddenly  as  that  under  nkture's 
law.    rhe  germ  of  the  team  instinct  was  in  him  all  alon«r 
and  h«  been  represented  in  his  growth  at  each  preceding  age.' 
The  baby  playmg  with  its  moth^  showed  a  social  instinct  of  a 
deep  and  perfect  sort,  acting  from  the  very  core  of  its  being, 
and  successfully  expressed.   I  do  not  know  that  we  couM 
speak  of  the  baby  as  belonging  -  as  really  forming  with  its 

ttefirst  wsential  of  membership  was  there  in  a  thorough 
meebng  of  minds,  a  fuB  sense  that  I  know  what  you  mean 
and  you  know  what  I  mean,  and  I  know  that  you  know  -  and 
so  on  to  an  almost  infinite  degree  of  mutual  understanding. 
^  m  the  dramatic  age,  with  its  cooperation,  and  especially  its 
as  if  the  belonging  instinct  were  cov  - 
H  is  an  th«e  though  in  a  faint  an. 
nidinientary  form:  the  ring  around  the  lofly  redly  i.  » 


THE  BELONQINQ  INSTINCT 


321 


team ;  but  it  is  hardly  one  to  withstand  the  rough  shocks  of 
a  competitive  and  unsymiwthetic  world. 

Then  comes  the  Big  Injun  age,  in  which  Nature  almost 
seems  to  drop  her  plan  of  making  the  child  a  member  of 
society  and  to  turn  her  attention  to  producing  an  aggressive, 
self-sufficient  atom  in  the  animal  world.  The  ends  accom- 
plished during  this  period  are  nevertheless  essential  to  the 
perfecting  of  human  membership  in  sevoal  ways. 

First,  the  Big  Injun  age  contributes  to  ideal  membership 
by  its  service  in  establishing  that  very  contrast  —  seemingly 
a  contradiction  but  capable  of  becoming  a  harmony  —  upon 
which  such  membership  depends.  What  we  want  in  human 
society  is  not  the  literal  welding  of  utterly  subordinate 
fragments  into  a  simple  whole  —  not  a  beehive,  m  whidi  it 
can  hardly  be  said  that  the  working  bee  sacrifices  herself  to 
the  community,  because  she  seems  to  have  no  self  to  sacrifice 
—  but  the  communion  of  self-directed  individuals  in  a  com- 
mon personality  through  their  voluntary  sharing  of  a  com- 
mon purpose.  And  to  this  end  the  firm  estaUiahing  of  the 
basis  of  individual  character  during  the  Big  Iiqun  age  con- 
tributes an  essential  factor. 

There  is  contribution  to  the  social  end  in  view  even  in  the 
definitely  anti-social  tendencies  of  the  Big  Injun.  There  is 
such  a  thmg  as  excessive  gregariousness.  A  man  may  be 
too  much  a  mixer.  Without  some  withdrawal,  some  pri- 
vacy, there  could  be  no  integrity  of  character.  We  need  to 
recollect,  to  pull  ourselves  together,  to  sound  our  mdi- 
vidual  relations  to  the  universe.  It  is  true  that  our 
strwigth  is  proportioned  to  our  relatedness ;  that  m  the  ful- 
fillment of  our  relatbns,  and  of  the  socul  rdation  above  aU, 
our  life  consists.  But  a  relation  has  two  ades.  To  lose 
yourself  in  sociability  is  to  lose  the  aodtbifity  aho,  fbr 
two  nothings  cannot  correspond. 


322  PLAY  EDUCATION 

J^^T^I^''''  '^^^  ^'^•^fly  t«  the  soHtan.  soul 

son  at  Walden.  Men  moend  the  hUIs  to  see    in.  .k 
at  the  n,«the«l  wko*  «p„rt  ««  tt.^^  l^' 

wmt  hu  brought  our  race  so  far  along  the  road  of  snirit,,.! 

certain  that  n'either  thetilftlJSid^it'lJ: 
ever  wm.  n^„g  ^  p^^e™  ^^rtSt^ 

W^d  yet  pre^ribing  the  losing  „f  it  as  the  onlv 

so^rXatrs™  Zertrnelir^r  °'" 
fe^rbirbo^r-^^^^^^^^^^^^^ 

We  it«el/,  are  to  be  preserved.  ««»per,  imity, 

As  m  the  individual,  so  in  tho  rm^  tt..  i.  , 
tainivl    -n,.  a"  in  in«  rue  the  balance  is  main- 

toned  The  greganous  soul,  bora  for  village  poUtics  „ll 
kvc.  slapping  „„  the  back,  to  whom  his  felw'Z  fa  ^ 

tnZu  'r  or  buHed Xe 


THE  BELONOINQ  INSTINCT 


828 


any  other  speda.  Our  most  inveterate  misanthropes  have 
doubtless  been  killed  off  as  th^  appeared,  but  not  so  early 

or  so  thoroughly  but  that  the  stram  survives.  In  the  race 
as  a  whole  the  desire  for  full  communion  fights  perpetually 
with  the  equally  characteristic  longing  to  wander  alone  like 
a  rhinoceros.  I  Social  repulsion  b  as  characteristic  of  us  as 
social  attraction. 

The  romance  of  human  life  u  in  the  conflict  and  concilia- 
tion of  these  two  elements,  the  social  and  the  solitary,  the 
tame  an  ,  the  untamed  —  in  the  nesting  of  the  wild  creature 
at  our  hearth,  the  stooping  of  the  haughty  soul  to  service. 
The  tragedy  of  life  is  here  also ;  and  the  conflicts  that  have 
d^iied  to  man  an  ea^y  or  an  obvious  morality.  But  from 
sudi  conflict  all  that  we  most  value  has  been  won.  Without 
social  attraction,  membership,  there  could  be  no  loyalty,  no 
patriotism,  no  morality  at  all  as  usually  conceived.  Without 
social  repulsion  there  would  be  no  opportunity  for  self- 
cdlection,  for  rediarging  the  mind  and  nerves  with  our  own 
purposes ;  there  would  be  no  sdf-directUHi,  evoitually  no  sdf 
at  all.  And  with  the  passing  of  the  individual  there  would 
come  the  death  of  society  also,  and  its  replacement  either  by 
a  fixed  organization  like  that  of  the  bee,  a  perfect  but  un- 
dianging  medianism,  or  else  by  a  perpetual  mob,  following 
its  dream  tonvw  in  hypnotic  trance  nnhrokra  by  the  darify- 
ing  jar  of  conscious  purpose.  The  temple  we  are  building 
in  this  world  is  not  made  of  soft  material,  easily  to  be  squeezed 
into  a  mold.  It  is  raised  painfully  of  hewn  stone,  resistant 
to  the  tool  of  the  workman,  equally  resistant  to  strain  and 
pressure  once  it  is  wrought  and  in  its  place. 

But  nature,  though  she  never  hurries,  never  forgets; 
and  although  the  Big  Injun  age  is  largely  devoted  to  estab- 
lishing the  individualistic  side  of  human  charactar«  her 


PLAY  IN  BKUCATION 

Mte  great  pmpose  of  making,  „f  the  individuA  w  fomrf 
of.  social  whole  fa  not  suspended.  ™ 

sol^  .^2"  development,  „ 

«W.  an  idea,  ir  pr^nJ:i°^.^"^«7^ 
personaJitv     Vnd  f.^  concrete  form  of  human 

them'lrt  t'!f!^  fn"'  f  demonstrated  heroic  among 

inem,  are  to  t.  e  Big  Injun  a  race  of  demigods    THp  h.rl 
of  the  diamond  and  the  footbaM  fi,.M  ^  *    u-  . 
of  fashion  and  the  mold  .  u        *°  ^ 

he  is  patterned  on  ^^^t  u  P"'*''"'"'"  P'-^^^^^'onal 
no  defect  even^  of  ?  characteristic  of  his  hero, 

ucien  e\en,  of  gait  or  speech  or  aestut^         :  x 

P«*n.eof  theHL  l^ J^'^  self-annihUation  in  the 

attitude  stands  foHs  «  l^T-  .f  t 

idol  that  commands  thl^'  .,  •         '"^'^  » 

*ou,h  awW^  t:  ^-vic  to  Mm  1.  . 

ine  hero  also  takoo      o   u  , 
significance  aTnSXidL  trfV  ^ 
relation,  has  alwavfJ::*:        2"^ T'''"™'''''''' 
the  group  idea  ^  couSlf      ^'  '""^^ 


THE  BELONGING  INSTINCT  325 

So  complete  is  tlie  ascendancy  of  tlie  hero  during  the  Big 
Injun  age,  and  so  generally  is  he  chosen  from  among  the 
successful  athletes  a  few  yean  older,  that  it  may  almost  be 
said  that  the  way  to  educate  the  Big  Injun  is  to  educate  the 

boys  of  the  succeeding  age  and  let  them  do  the  rest,  — a 
principle  which  the  great  English  b.        g  schools  have 
thoroughly  understood  and  used.   A  .       In  any  case  the 
boys  win  have;  and  he  wiU  in  any  case  be  an  athlete  and  a 
reputed  fighter.   What  other  attributes  he  shall  possess  will 
to  the  boys  be  a  matter  of  indifference;  and  it  is  here  that 
we  elders  may  do  so  much  to  turn  their  idealism  into  better 
channels  than  it  sometimes  finds.   If  preeminent  and  shining 
heroism  is  demonstrated  to  their  experience  only  in  the  young 
tough  or  criminal,  ihey  have  no  choice  but  to  adopt  the  tough 
or  criminal  as  their  ideal.   It  behooves  the  rest  of  us  to 
bring  within  the  experience  of  every  growing  boy  examples, 
as  convincing  as  need  be,  that  a  decent  youth  may  be  as 
manly  as  a  young  tough  and  even  have  a  few  points  to  spare. 
Each  occasion  on  which  such  preeminence  is  demonstrated 
to  the  physical  and  moral  satisfaction  of  aU  concerned  eman- 
cipates a  widening  circle  of  boys  from  incipient  toughness  as 
no  other  form  of  preaching  ever  will.   Carlyle  would  surely 
have  been  freed  from  Danton  if  he  could  have  seen  Washing- 
ton as  he  was,  and  especiaUy  if  the  two  had  met  in  personal 
encounter. 

It  is  a  chief  function  of  the  playground  to  provide  a  place 
where  the  boy  of  courage  and  enterprise  who  hac  not  become  a 
tough  can  gain  his  natural  ascendancy.  Under  which  king? 
Tbw  are  many  potential  kings  of  boydom  in  every  neigh- 
borhood, and  there  are  several  potential  personalities  in  each 
of  them.  Which  shall  prevail  and  mold  the  others  b  his 
likeness  will  depend  upon  the  opportunities  at  hand.  If  the 
only  chance  for  heroic  self-assertion  u  in  the  diiectioii  of  law- 


PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

lessness,  the  lawless  boy  win  prevaO  t/k.*.  ••  - 
^  PWund  sheer       „„S  by  I'tTZL" 

to  .^sume  hi,  S^„r 

deigning  no  expr„^o'?tS;iT' 

your  peri,.   B„t  .  hint  fZ^ZZZ'i^ 

..a^e7to?^re.:!:fe'>^r.r^^^^^^ 
^;:r-^t^:-t:tTa?r^^^ 

of  boy  moraUtv  vo,.  .    i       .  nattm 

from  Z  I^^iif  ^  have 
in  them  alrJdT^,  j  "T*  ""Port*"'  'W-g  is  present 
ness ;  ^'L^Lh  tft  i.  the  god  of  manli- 

tbqr  !«„,  it;  ^  *•  you  no  peace  untU 


THE  BELONQINO  INSTINCT  897 

Another  point  of  importance  is  that  the  child  has  really  a 
whole  mythology  of  heroes.  Next  to  Hercules  the  fighter, 
though  at  a  long  interval,  come  leaser  dem^ods ;  Mid  among 

these  Dsedalus  the  cunning  craftman  holds  no  unimportant 
place.  There  is  an  intellectual  side  to  the  child's  hero 
worship.  Although  so  persistent  an  experimenter,  the  Big 
Injun  b  a  pupil  also.  He  wants  to  find  out,  and  is  no  pedant 
as  to  methods.  He  is  forever  hangmg  about  wherever 
mechanical  work  is  going  on,  watching  the  bUcksmith.  the 
carpenter,  the  engineer,  asking  endless  questions,  tagging 
after  his  elder  brother  to  see  him  use  his  gun  or  his  new  boat. 
There  is  no  more  devout  disdpleship  than  his  toward  the 
sldUed  in  any  manual  occupation.  He  u  the  modern  Athe- 
nian, the  slave  of  anybody  who  will  tell  him  a  new  thing. 

As  Baldwin  has  pointed  out,  there  is  need,  for  any  set 
of  boys,  of  such  variety  of  examples  that  each  may  find  his 
"  copy,"  some  bright  exemplar  of  his  own  inherited  capacities. 
I  have  known  a  tempmmoital  churchman  to  languish  in  an 
exclusively  Emersonian  environment,  and  no  doubt  a  bom 
mystic  would  either  die  or  turn  rebel  if  brought  up  among 
the  Philistines.  There  are  among  the  children  of  any  neigh- 
borhood rather  tragic  examples  of  the  ugly  duckling. 

Froebel  tells  the  story  of  »  boy  of  four  saying  to  his  mother, 
who  caUed  to  hun  and  asked  what  he  was  about:  *!  am 

drivmg  the  geese  out  of  the  front  yard:  perhaps  you 
think  it  is  easy  to  look  after  geese."  Home  membership, 
including  active  participation  in  home  duties,  continues 
its  great  importance  during  the  Big  Injun  age.  The  boy 
follows  his  father  about,  and  b  ahnost  as  happy  at  findii  - 
he  is  really  needed  to  hoW  the  end  of  the  board  as  in 
putting  Jimmy  out  at  first;  as  proud  in  runnmg  home  for 
the  hammer  as  m  making  a  home  run.  It  b  easier  of  course 


MB  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

to  do  the  thing  yourself,  and,  a3  Froebel  warns  us,  it  i.  »U  too 
easy  to  snub  these  importunate  helpers.  What  they  want 
IS  roally  to  be  of  tm,  and  one  convincing  experience  timt 
they  only  hinder  may  be  enough.  The  thiead  is  unfor- 
tunately an  easy  one  to  break,  but  remember  it  is  the  Hand 
that  binds  your  child  to  you  and  to  his  home,  that  oblintion 
duty,  loyalty,  hang  by  it. 

The  <^  belongs  to  the  home  in  the  full  sense  of  thinking 
M  the  home,  «rtmg  for  it.  being  it  for  certain  purposes. 
TTie  hearth,  even  with  artificial  logs,  is  still  the  focus  of  our 
life  from  childhood  on.   The  wUdest  boy  loves  his  home 
unless  ver>-  bitter  experience  has  at  last  killed  that  fiber  in 
him;  and  when  it  has  done  that,  it  has  often  killed  the  boy 
too.  More  than  half  the  chUdren  who  go  wrong  come  from 
the  small  mmority  of  debased  or  broken  homes.  On  the 
other  hand,  those  who  study  children  not  in  school  merely 
but  in  their  whole  life,  to  find  out  how  they  reach  success 
or  fadure  report  that  the  best  single  influence  in  any  child's 
We  B  to  have  some  duty  toward  the  home,  recognized  and 
respected  as  such.   Home  duties  give  the  chUd  a  real  place 
m  the  world,  a  notch  that  he  fits  into,  social  standing  and 
personality.   He  is  the  boy  that  chops  the  wood,  and  the 
universe  could  not  quite  go  on  without  him.    There  is  no 
more  moralizing  experience  for  old  or  young.   All  social 

workers  rea>gmae  the  vital  importance  of  this  relation.  The 
chief  virtue  of  probation  is  that  it  leaves  this  taproot  of 
^^*^aracter  uncut* 

The  belongmg  instinct  appears  also  in  the  games  of  the 
Big  Injun  age.  The  very  gregariousness  that  draws  the 
chddren  together,  even  though  their  only  .employment 
when  they  meet  may  be  to  quarrel  or  pufl  each  other's  hair, 
shows  that  there  is  a  purpose  in  th«r  hearts  that  can  onjy  be 


THE  BBLONOINQ  INSTINCT 

worked  out  in  oommon.  Indeed  the  power  of  the  disruptive 
forces  withstood  teitifiet  to  the  itnngth  of  the  <:mmt.  And 
although  the  object  of  the  game  itself  may  be  purely  individ- 
ualistic, there  is  a  notable  triumph  of  the  social  faculty  in 
the  carrying  on  of  any  game  at  all ;  and  Big  Injuns,  although 
they  cannot  as  a  rule  achieve  this  result  unaided,  have  at 
leMt  the  desire  to  do  so,  and  so  much  of  the  capacity  that 
a  httle  suggestion,  even  a  good  example,  wiU  often  help 
them  to  it. 

The  very  instinct  of  competition  itself  tends  toward  social 
organization.  You  may  be  very  intent  to  beat  the  other 
W  in  the  race,  but  after  experience  of  many  contests  the 
fair  promise  of  whose  morning  has  been  clouded  over  by  the 
many-worded  dispute  terminating  in  a  general  row,  you  begin 
dimly  to  perceive  that  you  and  the  other  boy,  for  the  veiy 
reason  that  you  are  contestants,  have  interests  in  common ; 
inteiwrts,  namely,  in  the  establishment  and  maintenance 
of  those  rules  and  regulations  without  which  satisfactory 
contests  cannot  be  carried  on.  There  is  no  more  prolific 
source  of  legislation  than  athletic  competition,  and  no  re- 
lation in  life  calls  for  a  more  constant  exercise  of  the  judicial 
faculty. 

It  is  true  that  if  the  fight  were  really  internecine,  no  laws, 
even  laws  of  war.  would  ever  arise.   The  members  of  the 

cat  trihe  have  been  fighting  each  other  doubtless  since 
claws  wvre  first  invented,  and  they  have  not  developed  the 
shghtebi  germ  of  the  judicial  faculty  or  of  the  sense  of  humor 
which  seems  to  be  its  natural  accompaniment.  But  the 
child's  need  of  conffict  arises,  as  we  have  seen,  not  from  a 
desire  to  exterminate  his  competitor  but  from  the  combined 
wish  to  contend  against  him  and  to  have  his  own  superiority 
acknowledged.  His  ruling  desire  is  to  be  somebody;  and 
bemg  somebody  is  a  social,  not  an  individual  achievement. 


PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

It  is  a  matter  of  weighing  and  measuring  and  sizing  up ;  and 
weights  measures,  and  sizes  are  social  products;  the  valu. 
they  indkmte  depends  on  social  recognition.   There  is  of 
oottWB  the  tonpUtkm  to  p«rvert  justice,  to  try  to  force 
decwoM  m  your  favor  without  funiiahing  the  pw^^  But 
there  is  also  a  motive  against  such  procedure.   The  chiM'a 
real  judge  is  still  himself.   His  deepest  desire  is  reallv  to  beat 
the  other  boy,  not  merely  seem  to  do  so.   By  unfair  plav  he 
nMyjombfy  cheat  the  others,  and  there  is  doubtless  much 
Mtiifactioii  in  so  doing.   If  the  doOar  will  pass  current,  why 
IS  It  not  a  practically  real  dollar  f   But  there  is  still  a  fly  in 
the  ointment.   Do  his  best,  he  cannot  entirely  and  per- 
manently cheat  himself.   So  that  each  competitor  during 
tfce  Big  Injun  age  is,  from  the  nature  of  the  very  impulse 
that  makes  him  a  competitor,  abo  a  judge. 

And  besides  the  interest  of  each  in  having  a  fair  contest, 
there  is  the  feeling  of  all  in  favor  of  a  successful  game,  and 
a  dim  sense  of  their  solidarity  in  wanting  it;  the  dawning 
of  a  conunon  interest  is  beginnixig  to  take  captive  the  com- 

Prtitive  instinct  itself,  domesticate  it.  and  make  it  a  part  f 
the  social  system,  somewhat  as  the  English  peoples  have 
learned  to  make  the  conflict  of  parties,  with  recurrent  lev- 
o lution  as  one  overturns  the  other,  a  part  of  their  ordinary 
plan  of  government;  just  as,  indeed,  our  wh..!o  modern 
^H^J*.  on  competition.   At  last  the  perpetually 

ilhistrated  fact  that  a  society  of  chronic  kickers  can  never 
play  a  game  begins  to  be  seen  against  the  background  of  a 
possible  orderly  arrangement,  of  which  one  has  had  occasional 
experience,  and  with  which  one  comes  to  sympr.thize.  The 
fiMi  result,  in  the  playing  of  a  real  game,  is  a  commimitv 
achievement  llie  dedsiona  which  we  at  last  learn  to  render 
and  support,  as  to  whether  Jhnmie  was  out  at  first,  who 

came  out  kst,  and  whether  Maiy  Ann  was  leaBy  caught  - 


THE  BELONOINQ  INSTINCT  aSl 


wbethar  givoi  Mdamatioii  or  by  a  s^t  g\e  judge  —  ore  felt 
as  communky,  not  as  individuftl  decbioM. 

There  arises  also,  beside  the  judicial,  the  germ  ftbo  of 
legislative  faculty.  A  set  of  isolated  judgments  is  not 
enough.  We  must  somehow  settle,  once  for  all,  whether 
over  the  fence  is  out  and  whether  the  comer  of  the  woodpile 
itself  or  the  outlying  stick  of  wood  is  in  truth  first  base. 
And  so,  under  the  stimulus  oi  dire  neeemity,  the  gma  of 
the  legislative  faculty  appears. 

And  then  there  is  the  perennial  question  of  "What  let's 
do  ?  "  In  the  solving  of  this  and  other  practical  and  insistent 
problem*  of  public  policy  a  germ  of  kNidership  appears  and 
becomes  localised  in  certain  individuals.  Beddts  the  Book 
of  Judges  there  is  the  Book  of  Kngs.  Not  penuMl  rulers 
these,  but  representative,  whose  pronouncements  are  n- 
ceived  with  a  favorable  or  unfavorable  clamor,  —  cries  of 
"Come  on"  vying  with  those  of  "Ratsl"  — whUe  the 
dednmi  trembles  in  die  balance  as  to  what  shall  next  occupy 
the  attent'on    the  assembled  cfaieii. 

It  is  u  i:  }iat  effective  judgment  and  Iq^isUtion  are  not 
among  th  i  roducts  of  the  Big  Injun  age,  but  they 
occur  to  soi  •  ;nt  and  are  common:,;  pr^  .c nt  in  a  groping 
and  immoniiory  acnse  of  thdr  nocessitt .  The  age  at  which 
efficient  judicial  and  kgiaUtive  p^  er  ippears  differs  in 
diflFerent  groups.  One  thing,  however,  is  clear;  so  soon  as 
these  faculties  do  appear,  they  should  be  exercised,  the 
children  being  Ic.  a 'one  enough  .o  feel  ihe  pinch  of  anarchy 
and  the  invsa-ig  i.t;ed  of  overcoming  it.  A  baseball  game, 
for  instance,  should  sddom  be  umpired  from  tin  outside. 
The  baseball  microbe  is  stn»^;  miough  to  survive  the  qwit 
of  anarchy  in  almnst  ary  ?roup,  and  the  practice  it  enforces 
of  maintaining  social  order  .rom  within  contains  the  most 
valuable  lesson  of  the  game.   On  the  othw  hand,  they  ought 


332  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

not  to  be  left  to  themselves  when  the  consequences  will 
merely  be  the  triumph  of  anarchy  with  its  results  of  loafing, 
bullying,  and  desultory  mischief.  It  is  a  question  of  fact 
in  eMli  case.  The  thing  to  do  here,  as  in  every  other  problem 
of  education,  is  to  watch  and  see  when  the  budding  power 
begins  to  show  itself,  and  when  it  does  appear,  to  leave  it 
to  the  stimulus  of  those  needs  and  opportunities  on  which  its 
development  depends. 

That  chUdren  of  the  Big  Injun  age  do  not  wholly  lose  the 
direct  corporate  sense  shown  in  the  ring  games  of  the  pre- 
ceding period  —  although  as  a  rule  such  sense  is  overborne 
by  the  fiercer  impulses  now  in  the  ascendant  — is  further 
shown  in  their  ability  to  conduct  cooperative  enterprises 
when  the  spirit  moves.   Big  Injuns  will  often  combine  in 
buildmg  huts;  I  have  mentioned  the  case  of  a  sand  city  of 
their  construction,  and  I  know  at  the  present  time  a  Big 
Injun  tribe  who  at  the  end  of  every  summer  go  through  a 
period  of  building  stoves  on  the  leach.    And  every  stove  is  in 
truth  a  corporation,  though  unrecognized  by  law,  being  built 
and  carried  on  by  several  individuals  working  as  a  single 
whole.  They  speak  of  themadves  as  "belonging"  to  this 
stove  or  to  that,  meaning  of  course  not  the  bricks  and  sand, 
but  the  corporate  body.    "Joey,  may  I  be  in  your  stove?" 
I  heard  a  very  small  child  ask.    "  Yes,  Tottie,  I  will  put  you  in 
under  the  ashes."   The  idea  was  so  familiar  that  they  could 
I^y  with  it   The  same  chUdren  personify  the  beach,  where 
they  all  play  together  with  other  groups  with  whom  theu 
association  is  less  intimate.   "  The  whole  beach  knows  this, 
has  heard  that."   It  is  a  sort  of  folk  in  which  each  special 
tribe  holds  an  unconscious  membership,  as  each  stove,  in 
turn,  like  a  family,  is  a  member  of  the  smaller  tribe. 

KnaUy,  there  are  in  the  hitter  part  of  the  Big  Injun  age 
beginmngsof  asocial  unity,  signs  of  a  mdimentsiy  sense  of 


THE  BELONGING  INSTINCT 

membership,  within  the  game  itself.   First  there  is  the  game 
—  such  as  foUow  my  leader,  leapfrog,  foot  and  a  half  —  in 
which  the  children  follow  ewdi  other  in  a  series,  and  m  which 
each  feeb  himself  not  merely  to  be  leMiiiif  or  foUowing  and 
doing  his  own  individual  stunt  when  his  turn  comes,  but  to  be 
forming  a  part  with  others  of  a  single  string  which  u  doiag 
something  as  a  whole.   It  is  this  sense  of  sharing  in  a  common 
oonsdousness  that  gives  point  to  the  exhortation  of  Mr. 
Sam  Weller,  when  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends  are  sliding 
ontheice,to"keepthepota.bUing."  Beskles  Mr.  Pickwick 
and  Mr.  Winkle  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  and  Mr.  Weller  and  the 
rest,  there  is  th^  slide,  the  life  of  which  is  in  the  unbroken 
series  of  sliders,  which  must  not  be  allowed  to  languish. 
There  is  the  same  feeUng  of  making  a  single  string  whenever 
the  game  is  played  in  that  formation.   We  sometimes  say 
that  children  are  like  sheep,  and  it  is  true  that  thrir  gre- 
gariou^ness  takes  frequently  a  similarly  obsequbus  or  serial 
form. 

It  is  I  suppose  because  of  this  string  form  of  membership 
that  children  tove  a  procession,  almost  as  much  as  their 
e'ders  and  from  a  very  early  age.  A  boy  of  four  marehes 
about  the  parior.  pounding  on  the  waste  basket  and  eel*, 
brating  his  sister,  aged  two,  who  walks  ahead  of  him,  in  a 
continuous  outpouring  of  song,  to  the  tune  (more  or  less)  of 
•  Marching  through  Georgia,"  the  burden  of  which  b  "  Tottie 
IS  so  gay  "  -  much  in  the  style  of  those  bacchanal  processioiii 
immortalized  in  Greek  bas-reliefs.   The  procession,  indeed, 
with  its  unity  in  diversity,  its  continuity  and  repetition,  iti 
rhythmic  appeal  to  both  ear  and  eye.  is  very  deep  in  us. 
11»e  chiM's  first  arrangement  of  his  blocks  is  in  a  row,  and 
his  funeral  wiU  be  conducted  on  the  same  principle.  The 
procession  is  the  favorite  form  of  political  demoutetion, 
the  most  usual  gesture  of  any  huge  politteal  or  social  ofgut- 


334  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


ution.  Greek  religion  was  largely  processional  and  is  so  to 
this  day  in  South  Italy.  The  same  was  true  of  their  drama 
with  its  strophe  and  antistrophe.  And  in  our  modeni 
Athens  I  have  known  an  old  gentleman  who  could  no  more 
resist  a  military  band  than  a  small  boy  can,  and  who  up 
to  the  age  of  eighty  would  run  up  the  street  and  across  the 
Common  any  day  to  see  the  Aneients  parade. 

Next  there  gradually  emerges  the  outline  of  the  game  of 
sides,  first  perhaps  in  hill  dill  with  the  rudimentary  team 
experience  of  a  flock  scattering  in  flight  and  a  pack  combining 
to  make  a  capture.  Then  comes  prisoners'  base  with  two 
real  sides  lined  up  against  eaefa  other  and  considerable  possi- 
bilities of  cooperation.  And  finally  there  come  the  great 
team  games  in  which  the  contest  b,  fully  and  consciously,  not 
between  individuals  but  betwera  groups,  of  which  footbaU 
b  the  culmination. 

And  ronning  parallel  to  the  whole  series  is  our  great  na- 
tbnal  game,  suiting  itself  to  every  age.  from  three  old  cats, 
or  scrub,  in  which  the  child  seeks  to  stay  in  all  the  afternoon 
while  the  rest  hunt  balls  for  him  (the  ver>'  happy  hunting 
ground  of  the  Big  Injun  period),  up  through  games  of  tem- 
porarily chosen  sides,  to  regularly  organized  teams  —  them- 
selves perhaps  iqiresenting  a  school  or  other  organism  —  in 
which  eaA  player  has  his  special  part  assigned. 


CHAPTER  XXXVm 


What  ia  a  boy  doing  when  he  is  playing  football  f  What  is 
happeniiigtohirar  I  do  not  mean  what  is  he  domg  with  his 
arms  and  legs,  though  tiiat  it  oUni  a  aniens  subject  of 
inquiry,  but  what  is  he  doing  in  his  heart :  what  u  it  tiiat  he 
mainly  feels  ?  Externally  the  game  is  a  notable  phenomenon, 
indicating  passionate  experience  of  some  sort  What  m 
Uie  nature     tiiat  experience? 

In  the  iint  place  the  gieat  fact  in  football  k  its  pregminence 
as  a  sheer  exercise  of  the  belonging  faistinct  There  is  no 
membership  more  intense  than  that  of  the  pfa^ers  on  a  foot- 
ball team.  They  are  possessed  by  a  common  consciousness, 
with  a  completeness  hardly  found  in  the  associations  of  later 
life.  The  team  spirit  tinijes  to  their  finger  tips.  Theteam, 
indeed,  possesses  a  nwvous  (wgamaation  atawst  aa  tame  aa 
that  of  an  individual  and,  after  one  of  those  wmdvAil 
problems  in  arithmetic  which  the  quarterback  gives  out,  wffl 
throw  its  eleven  members  upon  a  single  pomt  with  almost  as 
complete  a  unity  of  purpose  as  that  with  which  a  trained 
boxer  strikes  with  his  ist  And  what  is  true  of  footbaU  is 
true  to  nearly  an  equal  degree  of  other  guMi. 

To  the  boy  meantime  this  utter  losing  of  himaif  m  the 
team,  merging  his  own  individuality  in  the  common  con- 
sciousness, is  not  a  matter  of  self-sacrifice.  It  is  on  the 
eontrary  an  eihilaratiiif  eiperience.  What  he  feeb  — or 
would  feel  if  he  stopped  to  have  foeliagt  ea  the  rnhjul — k : 
"  This  ia  what  I  wanted  ay  the  time*  what  Ilttd  it  m  bm  «• 


«8«  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

be  but  never  truly  was  till  now."  Losing  himself  in  the  teun 
IS  an  experience  not  of  self-sacrifice,  but  of  self-fulfillment 
It«  bwakang  of  a  band,  expansion  to  a  larger  personality, 
ine  Doy  m  the  great  team  games  comes  into  his  birthriitht 
•8  a  member.  ^ 

WhatishappeningtoaboyphoringfootbaflM 
T^'aa  Politician.   It  is 

S  «.  1^^  1"^'  '^^^'^^^  «f  membership; 

^le  The  te^  i«e  is  the  age  when  Sir  Launcelot  the 
kmght  errant,  hero  of  single  combat,  is  developing  into 
Arthur  the  loyal  kmg.  There  is  a  passage  in  one  of  TennZ 
-nsIdyUs where Launclot tells  Queen  Guinevere  howTe, 
^^ot.  IS  aU  ve,,^  well  in  feats  of  strength,  and  how.  on 
wTrT-  '  "y*»"«^««y  overcome  Arthur  in  a  tournament 
where  it  is  a  mere  question  of  personal  prowess;  but  that  if 
you  want  to  see  Arthur,  you  must  be  present  at  a  Uttle 
^ere  there  is  something  real  at  stake;  that  tlien  his  yellow 

fl~h«i  like  the  Hghtmng ;  that  there  is  then  a  spirit  present 
«^  ound  on  the  lower  plane.of  the  egotistic  warrinnd 
I^r  souls  shrivel  up  and  slink  away  from  before  hinL 

Ihe  Uig  Injun  has  given  way  to  something  higher. 

^fi"*l  »n  expression  of  the  belonging 

he  fls       t""  ^  -^^^  through 

the  forms  of  citizenship  -  learning  pariiamentary  law 
raising  pomts  of  order,  moving  the  previous  questioV^  hJ^i 

k  a  1^  JkT  ^^""^  ^'^  individuality 

Tbout  «penencing  citizenship,  not  learning 

Just  what  this  «,«ience  of  bekmging  is  defies  analysis. 


THE  TEAM 


887 


An  accessory  of  it,  included  in  the  consciousness  of  the 
efficient  member,  is  a  sense  of  the  mechanical  working 
of  the  team,  and  the  ezteniion  of  the  peraonality  so  as  to 

include  the  team  as  a  piece  of  mechanism.   As  a  diild's 
feeling  of  himself  extends  to  his  bat  or  oar,  to  his  sailboat 
or  double-ninuer,  so  it  extends  to  the  team.   The  captain 
throws  his  mej*  against  the  opponents'  left  wing  much  as  he 
mii^t  throw  a  pole  or  rope.   He  feeis  the  swing  of  the  move- 
ment in  the  same  way;  and  etdi  effective  mefliker  shares 
the  feeling.    If  one  boy  fails  to  do  his  part,  it  is  to  all  the  rest 
like  having  your  arm  or  leg  go  to  sleep,  your  rowlock  wobble 
or  your  ax  head  work  loose.    This  feeling  of  the  mechanics 
of  oo5peration  is  certainly  an  aid  to  the  sense  of  membership. 
A  simple  instance  is  in  the  game  of  snap  the  whip,  in  which 
each  child  feels  how  the  strain  of  the  common  movement 
runs  through  him  and  through  the  whole  line,  and  how 
everj-thing  depends  on  the  sufficiency  of  each  link.  Such 
a  game  gives  a  realistic  sense  at  least  of  physical  integration. 
So  dandng — an  combmed  rhythmic  play  —  has  a  similar 
effect. 

But  the  thing  itself  is  not  mechanical:  membership  is 
not  a  question  of  physical  combining,  nor  on  the  other  hand 
is  it  merely  a  niatter  even  of  spiritual  cooperation.  It  does 
not  consist  simply  of  helping  each  other  nor  of  working 
together  for  the  some  end.  It  maras  worting  not  coiBci. 
dently  but  as  a  unit,  acting  not  merely  togetfaw  but  as  one 
person,  as  though  from  a  common  soul  and  conscbusiMss. 
General  Sherman  said,  "There  is  a  soul  to  an  army  as  well 
as  to  an  individual  man."  No  precision  of  cooperation,  no 
interlocking  of  oorreqtondiiig  parts,  is  its  equivalent  or 
implies  anything  of  the  true  experieiiee,  though  it  is  likely 
to  produce  it.  As  I  have  said  in  describmg  the  sodal  play 
of  the  dramatic  age,  the  only  wiy  to  bebng  is  to  htbag. 


838  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

Membership  exists  only  as  itself:  it  cnnot  be  compounded 
of  other  elements.  It  is  HIcp  th^  «r„  wmpounaea 
it  «««  I.      J  ™ove  your  arm  • 

The  practically  important  thing  in  nttil«  hoH  of  «.  In. 
herit«l  capacity  like  thi,  is  the  depth  r^teh  yTaJ^ 
^Z^r,'^'- "< -t-  -nicuestioH^^ 
STlT^  ^  thoroughly  you  had  it,  how  deeply  Z 

not  Uie  amount,  but  the  degree,  not  how  oft^  Z  vJe  . 
m«nber,  but  how  fuily  y„„  longed.   Here  U 
h««  as  everjwhere,  but  here  more  vitally  because  S^sMhe 
r^yTS^'-r^^'-'r         '-your  life  .„  I. 
loZ^t^  in  ProporUon  aa  you  became 

ab^rbed.  It  3  the  team  setae  flutt  .hove  M  other  instincts 
tdtes  the  inAvdual  beyond  himaelf.  Whatthet«i,Z^ 
dem^of  him  that  he  wiU  do  whether  he  can^HT^ 

r^llTn'tht.^  '^'^  t"  .h. 

Such  moral  tranacendence  of  the  individinU  by  the  te«n 
aenae  within  him  is  not  confined  to  men.  rL^ntelbT 

o^esheepdogaof  South  America,  that  some^u^uT 
«.d  that  ae  latter  ««pt  the  flock  .a  their  own  pack  and 

« tSr  r  ^'^-^  WPfc^ to  tSe 

extent  of  tinng  them  out  with  too  much  tag.   The  doo  thus 

brought  up  are  very  fier«  in  defense  of  the  flock.Z^^" 

2^  T'  '"'"jrv'  "'^  °'    •>«>'''-  b^-rh 

up  with  »h.  B«  p«i  who  venture  near.   ITiese  latter  in 

M^hJH'^ l>«fo«  tbdr  own  kin  from  the 
«M  hborhood  of  the  4«p,  «  „  fl,„  i„  ^  ^ 


THE  TEAM 


889 


funOy  u  eaaUy  to  repulse  any  of  the  sheep  dogs  who  come 
new.  In  each  set  of  dogs  the  pack  motive  U  victorious, 
and  the  only  way  to  secuie  a  fair  fifht  between  them  would 
be  to  have  the  man  pack  attack  the  sheep.   Sometimes,  as  in 

the  case  of  the  bees,  the  team  appears  to  supersede  the  indi- 
vidual altogether  and  to  substitute  pubUc  for  private  motives. 

Team  play  is  important  because  it  is  the  deepest  attainable 

experience  of  membership,  the  most  whole-hearted  sur- 
render to  the  belonging  instinct,  at  the  time  when  this  in- 
stinct  is  establishing  its  dominion  in  the  boy's  heart.  But 
there  is  also  in  team  play,  besides  the  sheer  and  intense 
tapresaion  of  the  bebnging  instinct,  much  pnurtical  expe- 
rience of  the  methods  by  which  a  social  personality  b  built  up. 
The  player  learns  that  a  team  is,  in  the  first  place  and  always, 
a  work  of  faith.    It  is  created  by  assuming  that  it  existi 
and  acting  bokily  out  from  that  assumption.    It  grows  as 
its  members  have  power  to  imagine  it  and  faith  to  maintain, 
and  act  upon,  the  reality  of  that  which  they  have  imagined. 
Each  member  feels,  though  without  analysis,  the  subtle  ways 
m  which  a  single  strong  character  breaks  out  the  road  ahead 
and  gives  confidence  to  the  rest  to  follow ;  how  the  creative 
power  of  one  ardent  imagination,  bravely  sustained,  makes 
possible  the  execution  of  the  team  purpose  as  he  conceives  it 

Yott  noble  En^ish  .  .  . 

I  see  you  stand  like  greyhounds  in  the  dips 

Straining  upon  the  start.  The  game's  afoot 

FoBow  your  qwits.  .  .  . 

As  Kmg  Harry  sees  them,  so  his  men  become.  The 
power  of  creative  assertwn  h  at  its  greatest  in  the  making 

of  a  social  whole.  The  leader  is  not  merely  a  glorified  indi- 
vidual, he  is  a  functionary,  an  official,  —  true  priest  to  the 
spirit  of  the  team,  or  army,  or  nation,  he  i^reaents,  —  mkl- 


3^  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

wife  to  the  latent  loydty  of  hi.  folkmers,  Mrvant  of  aU  in 

the  highest  service  man  can  render  to  his  fellow  men. 
Aparticipant  in  team  play  feels  also  to  the  marrow  of  hi. 

Of  the  rert  by  holding  the  conception  of  the  whole  so  firmly 
n  his  mind  a.  to  enable  them  to  hold  it  al«,.  and  how  the 

ZoVr.  V  ^^^^'^r^P"*'  And  he  experience,  the 

effect  of  the  disloyal  member,  the  one  who  refuses  adherence 
to  the  going  conception  of  the  team,  usually  one  in  whom  the 
power  of  membership  is  weak,  the  chronic  objector.  Again 
he  may  go  through  an  episode  of  revolution,  the  work  not' 

loy  alty  but  whose  loyalty  was  to  a  different  purpo«,  perium. 
to  a  deeper  conception  of  what  the  team  should  be.^^ 
^y  gives  practical  experience  of  loyalty  and  its  effects; 
sets  daUy  problems  m  the  value  of  orthodoxy  and  intolerance 
on  the  one  hand  and  of  potest  and  revolution  on  the  other. 

Ihe  team  is  of  course  not  literaUy  an  ofg««sm.  Like 
the  nng  around  a  rosy  and  other  social  combinations  of  the 

«ve«l  membe«.  It  is.  as  I  have  said,  a  work  of  faith. 
But  It  IS  none  the  less  rej  on  that  account.  It  is.  on  the 
other  hand,  just  because  of  its  purely  spiritual  nature,  very 
dependent  on  spiritual  experience  for  its  development;  and 
Uiis  experience  must  be  gained  at  the  age  set  apart  by 
nature  for  the  purpose  if  the  power  to  belong,  the  dti«n 
capacity,  IS  ever  to  get  its  growth. 

And  in  our  gr«it  ^p  game,  there  i.  not  merely  experience 
of  the  sense  of  membership  «id  of  the  methods  of  it.  Whie- 
ti^,  but  there  is  definite,  severe,  and  effective  training  of  the 
Mongmg  muscles,  of  the  power  of  holding  the  team  sense  - 
'rtammg  one  s  image  and  preconception  of  a  play  and  one's 
<»n««««n«8  of  the  whole  team  as  carrying  it  out-in 


THE  TEAM  34, 

lth».        to  W  the  unity  „,  .  c„„p,„y  ^ 
'JlZiS^  ^'IZ '^"^  ^- 

.  Mone  b«w«n  you  «h1  tb.  «rt  Z  «  your  riAt 
And  wh«, ,.  co„«  to  holding  „  «^  «»«,iJrfSi 
Aythm  „d  .ctu,  of  the  pUy  when  one  ZTt^*T 
rt»ngl.  you«d  «,„th.r  h«  got  you  by  the  f«,t,  X,  diffi- 
folty  »  couidenUy  enliuKed.  The  triumph  of  the  tnuZ 
.m«.n.tion  in  m  holding  it.  ««  c^Za^ 
such  orcumstances,  i,  a  notable  one-»S7wir  1 
m<«t  sucoe^fu.  tean,,,  the playe^-^^^TL^ 

rlnT^  to  amy  ,t  out  as  preamnged.  but  to  modify 
.t  m  th.fa«of  u»tMt«rfu«fc««.n«neflp»,q..  T«m 
pUy  toughen,  U,e  fiber  of  memb«hip,  t^inTaJpr^Z^ 
belonging  p„,.„  ,„  .  1,,^,,  ^.^^  efficiency. 

It  .8  a  sign^cant  and  most  important  fact  tl..t  in  Jl  the 
»~t  (ime.  the  several  players  have  definite  parts  assigned 
TT-ey  a»  no.  merty  aggregated,  but  combined,  formC. 
definite  whole  m  which  ««hh«U.plM,.  They  work  not 
as  a  m«,  but  as  a  team.   It  is  significant  that  afL 
y«>n  of  the  age  o  loyalty,  after  about  the  fourteenth  ^aT^ 

h"  thl.  ip««h««g  d««cter.  There  must  be  not  merely 
p.rt.c,pat,on  m  .  giv«  p„,p.«.  b„t  p«icip.,i„„  ^  r 
the  fulfillment  of  specific  function.   Ev«,  .  wdf  p«k  hi 
oy  zatton    The  outlyer  calls  the  «„,  .„d  wait,  Ml^, 

pack  tho  t«d«ey  n  vny  rtreng.  Here  U  a  special  joy 
one  hdf  of  th.  pair  of  pi««,  and  feding  howth.  t,o^ 


342  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

bite.  Tlnre  is  peculiar  exhilaration  in  cfaarsing  down  the 
field  with  the  other  "end"  and  pocketing  the  fullback,  in 
throwing  yourself,  n  jjardless.  against  the  line  and  feeling  how 
the  play  holds  together  and  shoots  H  e  runner  through  the 
hole.  We  can  all  sympftthiM  with  tlie  grim  joy  of  the  little 
quarterback  in  u  famous  pk^r,  debybg  his  pass  to  the  hut 
moment,  until,  when  he  did  send  the  ball  straight  to  the 
sprinting  halfback  who  made  that  historic  touchdown,  the 
whole  center  of  the  opposing  line,  lured  by  a  false  hope,  went 
dowTB  on  top  of  him.  There  is  joy  in  definite  responsibility, 
in  the  power  to  identify  your  own  individu«l  oontributioii. 
A  boy  wants  to  know  just  where  he  fits:  not  merdy  to  puH 
with  the  rest,  but  to  hold  up  his  end 

Thisdesire  is  not  egotistic.  It  results  not  from  an  indi- 
vidudntic  motive,  but  on  the  contrary  from  a  desire  to 
belong  more  ftUly,  to  intensify  the  sense  of  membership. 
It  is  precisely  in  order  that  the  team  iji  hun  may  be  more 
wholly  absorbing  that  he  desires  such  particularity  of  service. 
It  IS  true  that  he  can  lose  himself  very  fully  in  the  horde  or 
mass  game,  as  in  later  life  he  may  lose  himself  in  a  mob ;  but 
tiie  pdnt  is  not  to  k»e  himself,  but  to  find  the  team,  not  to 
sleep,  but  to  wake  up.  He  would  die  to  the  narroww  con- 
sciousness jn  order  to  be  bom  hito  the  wider  one,  to  be  aUve 
as  he  never  u  as  before. 

SpedaUzation  contributes  to  the  fullness  of  membership 
because  through  it  the  team  makes  its  fuU  claim  on  the  in- 
dividual. In  mtrusting  him  with  one  especial  service,  it 
stakes  its  success  upon  his  adequacy,  subjects  him  to  the  fuD 
current  of  its  purpose.  If  shortstop  does  not  field  the  baU 
when  It  comes  his  way,  if  first  base  does  not  catch  it  when  it 
M  titmmn  to  him.  it  wiU  not  get  fielded  or  will  not  be  caught. 
In  his  own  especial  oflSwe  each  player  » the  team,  all  there  is  of 
It  at  that  point 


TBS  TBAM 


343 


Th«  wUtion  tt  the  same  as  that  of  the  child  to  the  home  in 
whk*  he  hM  •  definite  duty  to  perform.  It  is  the  relation 
that  saves  hfe  and  dumetw  everywhere.  Kiplinf.  in  the 
rtoryof  "TheShip  that  found  Herself."  haatherlvetoteBoiie 
another  how  one  time  a  rivet  let  go  and  then  the  next  gave 
way  under  the  strain,  and  so  on  until  a  plate  started  and  the 
shq>  was  loft.  To  fed  that  you  have  a  particular  thing  to 

domtheeerviceolyourcwiethatiioothercanaccomplish- 
that  you  are.  m  that  one  thing,  however  humble,  a  Kve  win 

of  the  common  purpose -is  the  way  of  initiation  to  full 
membership.  And  it  is  the  only  way.  Unless  you  are  in 
truth,  needed  for  its  accomplishment,  the  stress  of 
the  cwnmon  purpoee  will  not  run  through  you.  Responsi- 
bihty  IS  the  great  word  in  education ;  the  mirmcit  It  not  per- 
formed  through  work  that  can  be  negleeted  with  impnrfty 

As  specializing  in  the  great  team  games  arises  from  the 
boy  8  own  desire  for  intenser  membership ;  as  separate  duties 
are  aiBgned  not  because  the  players  wish  to  be  kept  apart  but 
because  ibey  desire  ^  doeer  union  than  merely  sharing  the 
same  function  could  ever  give,— so  alw^rs  itu  thesenw  ct 
unity  that  enforces  the  separation  and  holds  each  member 
to  his  part.   A  team  is  a  living  organism,  not  a  mechanical 
contnvanee;  it  is  governed  not  from  without,  but  from  within, 
»  held  together  not  by  the  teachings  of  the  coach,  but  by  the 
team  sense  of  its  member..  As  in  every  five  organism,  its 
law  pervades  it.  is  present  in  all  its  parts. 

Plant  an  apple  twig  and  there  grows  up  not  an  edifice  of 
twigs  but  a  tree,  with  roots  and  flowers  and  apples.  The 
twig  waa  ai^^  dreaming  of  the  tree ;  it  had  already  roots 
and  flowers  and  apples  m  Its  heart  It  held  its  pla^,  par^ 
took  of  the  tree  life,  existed  as  a  twig,  in  virtue  ol  such 
possession.  There  is  said  by  biologists  to  be  no  great  differ 
ence  between  the  seed  of  the  pknt  or  animal,  including  man 


344  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

and  any  other  ceU.  Yet  the  seed  has  in  it  countless  gener- 
ations, in  whom  the  whole  inheritance,  even  to  tricks  of 
gait  and  speech,  is  handed  down.  And  as  of  every  other 
living  organism,  so  it  is  true  also  of  the  team,  that  each 
one  of  its  members  contains  the  whole.  Each  need  not 
indeed  know  the  parts  of  the  other  players  as  he  knows 
his  own,  but  each  knows  the  game  as  a  whole  and  the  team 
conception  of  it ;  and  he  knows  his  own  part  not  separately, 
but  as  an  item  in  that  general  purpose,  so  that  when  he  acts 
It  is  not  as  an  individual  but  as  the  team  in  that  particular 
syllable  of  its  expression. 

"Shoemaker,  stick  to  your  lasf'is  a  favorite  text  of  aristoc- 
racy—admirable if  not  taken  in  the  aristocratic  mm. 
It  13  mdeed  through  sticking  to  his  last,  and  only  ao,  that  the 
shoemaker  can  be  of  service ;  but  he  must  stick  to  it  not  by 
grace  of  cobbler's  wax,  nor  through  any  other  external  power 
or  contrivance,  but  through  his  own  sense  of  what  the  com- 
munity requires  of  hun ;  the  same  sense  ~  shared  by  him  and 
all  other  citizens  —  that  also  assigns  the  aristocrat  his  part, 
if  haply  he  has  any  to  fulfill. 

Which  of  the  great  team  games  gives  the  best  training  in 
^ective  membership  is  a  somewha'  academic  question 
because  these  games,  being  played  at  different  seasons  of  the 
year  —  baseball  in  the  spring  and  summer,  football  in  the 
fall,  hockey  and  basket  ball  in  the  winter  —  do  not  conflict. 
As  between  our  two  greatest  games,  football  and  baseball, 
authorities  differ.  In  the  old  days  before  Rugby  had  been 
got  down  so  fine  as  it  is  now,  there  was  in  it  more  scope 
for  imagination  and  independence  than  in  baseball.  Now, 
however,  when  the  game  is  so  thoroughly  worked  out  before^ 
hand,  and  the  combinations  so  generally  foreseen,  that  the 
players,  except  the  quarterback,  have  little  to  do  but  execute 


THE  TEAM 


345 


maneuvers  in  which  they  have  been  minutely  driUed  it 
has  much  less  of  this  advantage.   In  baseball,  on  the  other 
iiaild,  the  combmations  present  themselves  so  suddenly  that 
the  player  must  ndy  largely  on  himself.  He  may  have  been 
carefully  teught  what  to  do  in  eveiy  possOrfe  combination, 
but  he  never  knows  which  combination  is  coming;  much 
must  always  depend  upon  his  judgment  and  presence  of 
imnd     In  football  the  fault  of  the  weak  player  can  more 
oft«j  be  atoned  for  by  the  strong  ones;  of  baseball  it  is 
pecuharly  true  that  each  must  do  his  part  or  it  wUl  not  be 
done  that  the  team  is  no  stronger  than  its  weakest  link. 
Still,  for  football  it  must  be  said  that  its  emotional  appeal  is 
deeper,  that  it  brings  the  whole  nature  into  more  intense 
•ctivitythananyothergame.  It  is  of  ten  found  in  practice  to 
nach  the  toughest  and  wikiest  spirits  as  nothing  else  will  do  • 
and  It  IS  noticeable  that  under  its  speU  th^  play  m  sUence! 

It  IS  a  national  misfortune  that  our  most  popular  game  is 
one  requiring  a  prairie  for  its  accommodation.  And  as  yet  no 
«ibrtitute  has  been  discovered.  Playground  ball,  squash 
baU,  and  other  modifications  have  had  considerable  success, 
but  none  of  these  have  come  to  seem  like  real  life  to  boys  over 
twelve.  Rugby  football,  on  the  other  hand,  can  be  made 
so  far  as  prelumnary  practice  is  concerned,  a  fairly  spaoel 
ewnommng  game.  One  of  the  best  boys'  teams  I  have 

W  Z^*^*       ^r^""^"^  °f  «  <=J^urch  50 

by  30  feet  m  area,  less  a  stairway  and  six  brick  posts.  It 
would  m  my  opinion  be  not  only  a  great  advantage  from  the 
point  of  view  of  finding  room  for  all  the  boys  to  play,  but  an 
i^rovement  in  the  game  itself,  if  the  size  of  the  official 
fidd  were  greatly  lessened.  Such  a  change  would  increase 
the  amount  of  scormg,  lessen  the  present  absurd  number  of 
tie  games,  and  what  is  of  even  greater  importance.  wouW 
make  a  score  mimiiient  all  the  time.  Tennis,  with  its 


346  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


background  of  some  two  thousand  years,  conforms  to  a 
truer  psychology  in  this  respect  With  boys  of  fifteen  or  so 
I  have  found  a  football  field  25  yards  long  by  30  yards  wide 
more  popular  thrn  a  larger  one,  when  they  were  playing 
for  the  game  without  reference  to  its  more  august  conven- 
tions. Soccer,  partly  because  of  its  lesser  serious  effect  upon 
the  wardrobe,  is  a  more  available  game  than  Rugby,  and 
better  for  general  and  informal  use.  William  A.  Stecher 
and  other  leaders  are  performing  a  national  service  in  de- 
vising and  popularizing  games  leading  up  to  soccer,  and  such 
subsidiary  games  as  volley,  dodge,  and  captain  ball.  Rugby, 
however,  goes  deeper  than  any  other  game,  and  because  of 
its  roly-poly  opportunities  is  also  especially  adapted  to  the 
very  young. 

The  team  game  gives  the  deepest  experience  of  the  belong- 
ing instinct,  at  the  tune  when  it  is  setting  its  stamp  upon  the 
mind  and  character.  It  is  through  the  team  games  that  the 
poma  not  only  to  think  but  to  feel  in  terms  of  a  larger  per- 
sonality gets  itself  set  most  deeply  in  our  blood  and  bone. 
This  is  the  power  that  makes  the  patriot,  the  loyal  member. 
It  is  not  so  much  a  power  to  act  as  a  capacity  for  being  acted 
on,  for  being  caught  in  a  larger  orbit  than  that  of  individual 
desires.  Without  possession  of  this  sheer  belonging  power, 
all  group  action  would  be  impossible.  A  regunent  can  charge 
a  fort  as  no  aggregation  of  individuals  could  ever  do,  because 
the  regiment  will  reach  the  fort  if  it  has  the  courage  to  keep 
on,  and  can  thus  feel  the  inspiration  of  the  whole  movement 
and  of  what  it  may  accomplish.  It  may  lose  half  its  number 
and  yet  its  blow  will  be  delivered.  Even  if  the  whole  regi- 
ment is  lost,  there  is  the  team  sense  of  the  army  back  <rf  it; 
some  other  regiment  will  land  the  telling  blow. 

A  collection  of  individuals,  on  the  other  hand,  could  never 
charge  —  at  least  not  in  the  same  blazing  spirit  of  success  — 


THE  TEAM 


847 


because  for  each  of  them  the  chance  of  ever  getting  there 
would  be  too  small.   No  single  soldier  couW  look  forward 

to  a  fair  prospect  of  serving  a  useful  purpose  by  his  sacrifice  • 
he  could  offer  himself  for  martyrdom,  but  could  not  feel  the 
thnll  of  an  immediate  contribution  to  the  result.   A  regi- 
ment can  charge  because  a  charge  ii  rational  if  you  think  in 
regimental  terms.   It  is  a  weapon  big  enough  to  deKver  that 
sort  of  blow.   Indians,  though  almost  incredibly  brave  m- 
dividually.  rarely  charge,  because  their  team  sense  has  never 
developed  that  especial  form.   The  Zulus,  on  the  other  hand 
whose  team  sense  is  very  strong  in  this  direction,  will,  as  an 
English  officer  who  had  seen  them  once  expressed  it  to  me, 
charge  up  to  breastworks  defended  with  repeating  rifles, 
with  nothing  but  a  spear  and  a  smile."   They  come  against 
any  odds  like  a  great  wave,  in  a  single,  fused,  tribal  deter- 
mination  to  sweep  over  and  submerge  all  obstacles;  .uose 
who  are  stacked  up  dead  against  the  breastworks  have  done 
their  part.   Negroes  in  this  country,  with  the  high  power  of 
social  fusion  for  which  we  laugh  at  them,  have  distinguished 
thmselves  in  a  similar  way  from  Fort  Wagner  to  San  Juan. 

Without  the  team  spirit  we  could  never  strike  with  more 
than  the  wdght  of  a  single  individual,  could  never  accom- 
plish,  m  any  direction,  more  tiiao  can  be  done  by  acting 
severally,  with  more  or  less  coincidence  in  tune. 

Although  the  great  team  games  are  the  highest  expression 
of  the  belonging  instinct,  an  equally  natural  form,  at  least 
dunng  the  early  part  of  its  ascendency,  -  say  from  eleven 
to  fourteen  so  -  is  m  tiie  raid  or  foray.  Great  satisfac- 
tion is  to  be  found  during  this  period  in  some  combination  of 
stalking,  chasing,  stealing,  rescuing,  and  absconding,  pref- 
erably directed  against  another  gang -those  other  fellows 
whom  It  IS  a  joy  to  threaten,  harry,  despise,  make  the 
subjects  of  mtertribal  wit  and  repartee.   I  think  we  all  of  us. 


848  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


in  our  early  teens,  can  almost  remember  the  happy  days 
when  we  used  to  get  up  in  the  gray  dawn,  steal  down  to  our 
trusty  ship  awaiting  us  b  the  creek  (the  wick  of  the  Vikings), 

hoist  the  dragon  flag  and  steer  across  to  the  other  shove,  there 

to  surprise  and  rout  our.  enemies,  smash  and  pillage  to  our 
hearts'  content,  and  then  sail  home,  exchangir  s?  brilliant 
sallies  with  such  of  the  inhabitants  as  ventured  back  to  the 
beach  to  yell  and  shake  their  fists  at  us.  Somewhere  there  or 
thereabouts,  I  think,  b  the  true  aim  of  life  as  the  boy  feds  it. 
This  desire  is  very  fully  satisfied  in  the  raiding  game;  and,  as 
T  have  already  said,  everything  necessary  should  be  done  to 
preserve  I  spy,  robbers  and  policemen,  white  men  and  Indians, 
and  other  games  of  that  class.  They  are  not  easy  games  to 
play  in  most  cities,  but  they  are  possible  in  many  suburbs 
»*nd  residential  districts.  And  then  most  people  still  live 
outside  of  the  cities  in  places  where  children  have  at  least 
room  to  grow. 

Perhaps  it  should  be  said  before  leaving  the  practical  dis- 
cusaon  of  team  games  that  they  will  all  bear  watching,  foot- 
ball especially.  In  the  first  place  there  b  the  phy^dikDger. 
Many  boys,  under  the  unnatural  strain  that  the  ensessive 
attention  of  their  elders  to  athletic  success  brings  upon  them, 
overdo  in  games  as  well  as  in  rowing  and  track  events.  Aris- 
totle reports  that  few  boy  prize  winners  in  the  Olympic 
games  develop  into  men  imsewumers;  and  he  attributes  the 
fact  to  overstrain.  There  should  be  careful  medical  sup^ 
vision  of  all  school  and  college  athletics  by  men  who  will 
continue,  under  all  forms  of  pressure,  to  consider  health  and 
future  usefulness  more  important  than  present  athletic  vic- 
tory. Boys  left  to  themselves,  indeed,  would  not  go  far 
wrong  in  this  respect.  They  put  thdr  whole  soul  into  the 
game,  but  do  not  kill  themselves  before  the  game  b^ins  by 
overtrainmg;  except  when  there  b  something  the  matter 


THE  TEAM 


349 


with  their  hearts,  they  could  for  the  most  part  be  trusted 
But  there  is  now  no  hope  of  their  being  left  to  themselves,* 
newspapere  and  graduates  wiU  see  to  that.  The  only  safety 
» in  fubctituting  a  calm  and  deliberate  for  an  overstimulat- 
mg  and  largely  hysterical  interference. 

Regulation  is  necessary  also  on  moral  grounds.  Royce's 
loyalty  to  loyalty  -  respect  for  the  self^levotion  of  the  other 
side  as  an  example  of  the  spirit  of  loyalty  which  both  sides 
obey  — 18  a  plant  of  slow  growth.  The  first  attitude  of 
boys  towards  their  opponents  is  seldom  governed  by  that 
spmt;  and  when  left  to  themselves  they  do  not  as  a  rule 
develop  it.  Even  our  colleges  have  not  been  especially  sue- 
c^ful  in  that  direction,  though  there  has  lately  betai  con- 
siderable improvement. 

Teachmg  in  this  matter  is  not.  it  is  true,  an  easy  thing. 
1  he  method,  to  succeed,  must  not  be  too  direct  You  can- 
not say,  "Now.  fellows,"  and  then  proceed  to  lay  down  the 
moral  law  as  applied  to  football  with  any  just  expectation  of 
succeM.  Suggestion  is  a  better  way.  And  the  suggestion 
must  be  subUe.  atmospheric,  a  matter  chiefly  not  of  speech 
but  of  attitude.  A  very  few  explanations,  mostly  private, 
of  how  the  sort  of  thing  you  desire  to  discourage  looks  from 
the  other  side  may  help ;  but  in  the  main  the  best  teaching 
will  be  through  silent  and  decisive  assumption  that  such  and 
such  is  not  the  way  we  do. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 


TBK  OANQ 

The  belonging  instinct  during  the  period  we  are  r  insider- 
ing  has  otWmanifestfttioinbendes  team  games.  ^  r<  laset 

of  boys  will  meet  day  after  day  when  there  is  no  ^e  to  be 
played  and  very  little  else  to  do ;  sometimes  they  simply  meet 
and  hang  around,  their  object  being  apparently  to  do  nothing 
at  all  and  do  it  together ;  sometimes,  on  the  other  hand,  they 
find  a  great  dea'  to  do  of  a  sufficiently  strenuous  sort,  not 
always  in  accordance  with  the  laws  and  usages  of  civilised 
society.  In  short,  boys  during  the  age  of  loyalty,  and  es- 
pecially between  the  ages  of  twelve  and  sixteen,  are  prone 
to  form  the  gang,  of  whose  adventures  and  evil  deeds  we  hear 
so  much,  ■--  the  drove,  pads,  <»iginal  boys'  dub,  first  exptes- 
sion  of  enduring  membership  outside  the  family,  original  cell 
of  a  society  of  equals. 

Just  what  percentage  of  boys  belong  to  gangs  at  one  tune 
or  another  has  never  been  carefully  ascertained,  so  far  ts  I 
know.  The  proporti<m  is  said  to  vary  according  to  race, 
opportunity,  and  social  position,  the  gang  tenden^  bong 
high  among  the  Irish,  and  among  those  of  meager  oppor- 
tunities in  other  directions,  low  among  the  Jews  and  the 
well-to-do.^  I  suppose  it  is  an  underestimate  to  say  that  the 
majority  of  boys  belong  to  gangs  at  some  period  of  their 
carew;  and  the  proportion  of  those  whose  belonging  instinct 
has  a  toidency  toward  this  form  of  «(presaon,  and  under 

''«e  "The  Boy  and  his  Ckmg,"  by  J,  AcUuns  Puffw.  aTaioaLle 
trttttiise  OQ  this  subject. 

350 


THE  GANG 


851 


favorable  conditions  would  result  in  gang  membership,  is 

much  higher.  The  gang  is,  at  all  events  during  the  period 
in  which  the  belonging  instinct  dominates  growth  and  edu- 
cation,  that  instinct's  most  highly  developed  and  revealing 
manifestotion.   What,  then,  are  its  essential  characteristics  ? 

In  the  first  place  there  is  no  doubt  that  the  gang  is  a  real 
social  body,  a  true  jperaom,  or  subject  of  common  membeiw 
ship  such  as  I  have  attributed  to  the  team  and.  in  a  more 
rudimentary  form,  to  the  ring  of  the  dramatic  age.  What- 
ever else  its  members  may  or  may  not  do,  they  certainly 
belong.  And  the  members  of  a  gang  belong,  if  not  more 
deeply,  at  least  more  inclusively,  for  a  wider  variety  of  pur^ 
poses,  than  do  the  members  of  a  team  or  any  other  body 
during  this  stage  of  growth. 

The  forms  in  which  the  gang  finds  expression  are  very 
numerous.  I  wffl  state  them  in  their  observed  order  of 
preference. 

First  come  the  regular  team  games.  For  a  team  may  exist 

not  only  for  its  own  purpose  as  a  team,  but  also  as  a  repre- 
sentative of  another  more  inclusive  personality.  Teams 
represent  sd.  ..  '-ges.  cities,  even  nations.  And  so  they 
are  oft«i  ex»...  of  the  gang;  or  conversely  the  team 
Itself  may  grov.  .o  <*  gang,  its  membership  coming  to  be  ol 
the  more  general  srort.  Team  play  also  takes  place  within 
the  gang;  m  that  case  the  gang  spirit  itself  has  a  legislative 
Md  judicial  part,  as  judge,  promoter,  and  patron  of  the  sports. 

popuhtf.  and  coming  very  natural  to  the  gang,  are  the 
raiding  games  of  I  spy,  white  men  and  Indians,  variety. 

Team  games  are  the  best,  and  certainly  from  a  grown-up 
point  of  view  the  most  convenient,  expressions  of  the  gang- 
but  they  should  not  be  the  only  form  of  its  activity.  Ther^ 
are  other  innocent  methods  of  expression;  and  then  I  am 
not  sure  that  the  gang  ought  to  be  wholly  innocent  in  its 


Ma  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


activities.  When  is  •  boy  going  to  cultivate  the  less  innocent, 
undovelike  but  necessary,  qualities  if  he  does  not  get  such 
training  in  the  gang? 

Next  to  team  games  come  the  more  direct  and  primitive 
expressions  of  the  instincts  on  which  these  are  based.  The 
instmct  of  tribal  war,  which  forms  evidently  the  basis  of 
football  and  to  a  less  extent  of  b«seball,  hockey,  and  so  many 
other  games,  finds  satisfaction  in  fights  with  rival  gangs, 
the  preferred  weapons  being  stones,  sticks,  and  snowballs, 
the  use  of  which  satisfies  the  subsidiary  throwing  and  striking 
instincts  so  important  in  baseball,  hockey,  and  other  team 
^mes,  with  resort  to  fists  when  at  close  quarters.  Some- 
times these  fights  are  of  an  mtemational  rather  than  inter- 
tribal nature,  —  one  quarter  of  a  city  against  another,  as  m 
the  historic  snowball  fights,  sometimes  helped  out  with 
slings,  ice,  and  stones,  on  Boston  Common.   A  picturesque 
instance  of  intercity  warfare  occurred  when,  two  or  three 
years  ago,  the  armies  of  two  Boston  suburbs  met,  some  thou- 
sand in  all,  on  the  ice  of  Mystic  River  to  settle  certain  dif- 
ferences of  opinion,  —  on  which  occasion,  after  a  pretty  seri- 
ous encounter,  the  breaking  of  the  ice  followed  the  breaking 
of  heads,  and  one  of  the  vanquished  was  drowned  in  spite  of 
the  life-saving  efforts  of  the  victors. 

Then  there  are  actual  raids  in  dbedience  to  the  instinct  that 
prescribes  the  raiding  games:  the  robbing  of  cellars  and 
greenhouses ;  swooping  down  on  gardens,  orchards,  and  fruit 
stands;  smashing  windows  and  the  glasses  of  street  lamps; 
stealing  street  signs,  gates,  and  barbers'  poles ;  engaging  the 
grocery  man  m  conversation  while  a  companion  m^t^  off 
with  the  bananas;  escaping  down  dark  alleys  and  over  roofs 
and  by  the  exercise  of  many  wiles  ;  breaking,  harrying, 
pillaging,  and  carrying  off.  A  set  of  boys  I  knew,  who  had 
the  sea  and  woods  to  play  in,  and  plenty  of  boats,  swimming, 


THE  GANG 


808 


and  baseball,  nevertheless  found  it  necessary  toward  the  end 
of  each  summer  vacation  to  go  on  what  they  called  a  raid  — 
getting  themselves  up  as  tramps,  ringing  doorbells  and  de- 
manding food  or  moo^,  frightening  householders  or  getting 
them  seriously  excited,  and  ending  m  glfirious  retreftt  bdore 
the  advance  of  the  patrol  wagon. 

The  preferred  object  of  these  attentions  also,  is  another 
gang.  Indeed  the  whole  satbfaction  of  raiding  would  be 
greatly  impaired  if  the  demoit  of  injury  to  a  hostile  "  crowd  " 
were  absent;  and  the  joy  is  at  its  heiglit  when  you  can  best 
appreciate  the  feelings  of  the  iqjured.  Indeed  the  world,  n 
assumed  by  the  instinct  of  this  period,  is  a  worM  of  gangs. 
Gang  is  the  normal  antagonist  of  gang  as  boy  is  of  boy. 

And  in  every  gang  there  is  need  of  adventure  in  other  forms 
besides  that  of  the  raid.  For  one  tWng  there  is  a  distinct 
locomotive  tendency,  derived  perhaps  from  the  old  hunting 
instinct  like  that  of  the  wolf  pack.  We  all  like  to  run  with 
the  crowd,  and  often  begin  to  do  so  before  we  ask  where  they 
are  all  running  to.  Just  as  a  dog  will  get  up  and  bark  and 
run  with  any  set  of  children,  so  the  pack  instinct  in  us  comes 
to  Mfe  in  the  presoice  ol  moving  peojde.  Boys  like  to  set  <tf 
together  on  long  tramps,  not  always  piratical  in  nature. 
There  is  an  especial  attraction  toward  wild  places,  the  sea- 
shore and  the  woods ;  toward  hunting,  fishing,  camping,  and 
staying  out  all  night.  There  is  a  desire  to  visit  strange  coasts 
and  cities,  to  see  new  scenes  and  the  races  <^  articulate  speak- 
ing men.  The  Odyssey,  indeed,  ought  to  be  taught  during 
this  period,  when  boys  are  still  in  Odysseus's  class  and  can 
appreciate  him. 

And  the  gang  has  an  especial  love  of  darkness.  We  are 
Diana's  foresters,  gentlemen  of  the  shade,  minions  o#  the 
moon,  under  whose  countenance  we  — steal.  It  is  best 
meedng  in  the  dark,  best  of  all  at  the  hour  when  churehymrds 
2a 


PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 
nnU"'*  ve  up       d«Ml.  when  more  things  can  be 

8t.ll  the  leader,  at  this  age  as  throur^h  life,  still  the  first  form 
of  achievement -action  in  the  fluid  state,  preceding  its 
h*rd«iing  down  to  the  concrete.  And  imagination  is  now 
tomeJy  •  team  product  Boys  tell  each  other  things  they 
never  knew  and  would  not  have  discovered  by  themselves  • 
the  gang  evolves  them  out  of  its  composite  soul 

Historically  I  suppose  the  gang  is  a  survival  of  the  war 
Dand.  Or  perhaps  it  goes  back  even  farther,  to  the  pack  of 
young  nudw  running  by  themselves,  as  in  the  case  of  some 
kinds  of  ammab    Theie  certatajy  is  m  it  a  antagonism 
-  a  tendency  to  class  girls  with  peddlers  and  old  ckythes  men 
as  preferred  objects  of  persecution  -  which  suggest  such  a 
separation ;  as  there  is  a  tendency  among  savages,  seen  also 
m  the  ancient  Germans  and  the  modern  English,  to  separate 
boys  from  the  bc«ne.  Perhaps  the  war  band  itself  is  a  sur- 
vival  of  such  an  aboriginal  pack  of  the  young  males.  The 
German  youth  flocking  to  the  standard  of  some  young  leader 
who  announced  a  raid  on  Gaul,  the  young  Indian  bucks  who 
with  the  stirring  of  the  sap  in  spring  felt  the  need  to  join 
the  war  party  of  some  youthful  and  ambitious  chief,  seem  to 
have  been  actmg  not  from  a  sober  economic  motive,  but  rather 

from  anmner  necessity  to  go  out  and  pick  a  fi^t  with  some 

one. 

Fighting  at  aU  events  and  fighting  games  are  very  close  to 
toe  gang  spint  Indeed  so  germane  to  that  spirit  are  the 
fighting  and  raidmg  impulses  that  it  might  be  questioned 
whether  they  are  not  integral  parts  of  it.  -  whether  the  gang 
impulse  Itself  is  not  one  of  get-together-and-fight.  or  ge^ 
together-and-raid.  rather  than  simply  an  impulse  to  get- 
together,  by  whi.^  these  special  manifestations  are  taken  on 
It  seems  dear,  however,  that  the  frequent  existence  of  gangs 


THE  l  UNO 


865 


^Mrtfcomsucb  special  manifesUtions  proves  that  the  impulse 
they  represent,  whatever  H  may  have  been  oriifinaliy,  haa  at 
least  become  sspmble  from  fightbg  and  raidfaig.  although 

so  frequently  combined  v\  ith  these.  Of  course  when  the  two 
sets  of  impulses  do  come  toRcther  they,  as  in  all  such  cases,  act 
as  one ;  there  is  no  double  consciousness,  no  rift  in  the  single 
or  composite  purpose,  whatever  in  a  given  instan'ce  that 
may  be. 

It  is  certain,  at  all  eventt .  that  whether  it  is  engaged  in 

active  hostilities  or  not,  the  outside  world  is  under  normal 
conditions  hoatis  to  the  gang.  All  that  are  not  of  it  are  its 
oiemies.  And  this  feeling  is  due  not  oi»ly  to  the  inherited  war- 
lik»impulse,but  partly  to  the  desiw  for  self-reaUzation.  The 
gang  has  enemies  because  enemies  are  needed  in  its  business ; 
they  are  a  psychological  necessity,  a  prerequisite  to  its  at- 
tainment of  full  self-consciousness.  Caesar  tells  how  the 
Suevi  took  pride  in  having  as  wide  a  border  of  devastation  as 
possible  around  them.  Thb  was  the  ancient  German  and 
English  mar*  — the  edge  and  outline  of  the  tribe,  the  thing 
that  marked  it  off.  A  gang  can  fully  know  its^  onfy  against 
the  background  of  a  hostile  world. 

And  this  desire  for  distinction  shows  itself  not  only  in 
hostility  but  in  many  other  ways.  The  gang  marks  ita  sep- 
aratoiess  by  speedi,  dress,  gesture,  walk,  cu9t(Hn  of  e'"'  rv 
sort;  and  every  such  attribute  is  made  a  sc  ^e  ol  pridi, 
every  departure  from  it  a  disg-ace.  To  be  distinguished  by 
almost  any  trait,  however  absurd  in  itself,  is  a  source  of  satis- 
faction to  the  gang  as  to  the  individual.  Kipling,  who  has 
himself  preserved  the  rudimentary  gang  feelings  in  all  their 
pristine  freshness,  and  so  is  a  direct  authority  from  the  world 
of  boydom,  makes  Mowgli  revile  the  Red  Dog  for  having 
hair  between  their  toes.  In  the  eye  of  the  Eternal,  hair 
between  the  toes  may  be  as  honorable  as  no  hair,  but  Mow- 


PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

gli's  wolf  tribe  had  it  not  and  the  Red  Dog  had  it;  hence  it 
was  a  lussing  and  a  reproach. 

The  humor  of  the  gang  is  an  important  manifestation  of 
Its  instanctive  attitude  towani  stmngers.  It  is  seldom  of  a 
sympathetic  sort,  and  is  in  truth  a  -erbal  form  of  war  ita 

^  f ^^^^^  "P  «^os. 

able  the  latter  s  complacent  image  of  itself.  In  all  inter- 
national  humor  the  same  quaKty  inheres.  English  jokes 
about  the  French  Fi.nch  witticisms  upon  the  GLan^.t. 

the  Old  World  well,  from  the  time  of  Dickens  down,  as  a  f^ 

SinLm^^"""  ^-g^'  these 

^utTn  J^  *  "^'^     ^^-^^  observation, 

but  from  an  inner  necessity.  The  cause  is  not  in  the  othei^ 
nation  but  m  themselves.   Their  object  is  to  heighten  their 

^"^wTT" -""''.'"^  "^^^^^      that  pur. 

^  that  the  foreigner's  difference  from  themselves  should 
reaUy  be  an  mfenority.  It  is  not  even  necessarv  that  it 
should  exist.  An  imaginaiy  trait  wiU  serve  as  wel7as  aid 
one.  and  one  trait  about  as  well  as  another,  for  this  purpose 
The  relation  between  membership  in  our  ow^.  gi^up^nd 
hos^ty  to  the  outer  world  is  deep  in  all  of  us.  War  ^ 
pateotism  are  only  just  beginning  to  be  disentangled. 

War  and  distinction  from  outsiders  are  not  the  only  means 
o  heightening  the  sense  of  membership.  The  gang  intend 
fies  Its  own  self^x^nsciousness  by  customs  and  Zavances 
of  many  «,rts;  by  singing  favorite  songs,  repeating  shib- 

self-assertion  and  celebration.  Traditions  -  the  apotheosis 
o^^itsheroes;  recounting  the  great  deeds  of  the  pastClT^^^ 
tale  whatever  its  actual  origin,  becomes  fitted  to  the  gang 
ideal-are  means  to  the  same  end.  Every  weU-estabS 


THE  GANG 


357 


gang  has  its  mythology  and  its  ritual,  in  which  latter  there 
dioukl  be  something  of  mystery  and  awe.  Many  have  se- 
cret signs  by  whidi  the  monbm  know  eadi  othw ;  some  have 
a  special  language.  Oaths,  accompanied  by  blood-curdling 
rites,  are  often  used,  not  so  much  to  bind  the  consciences 
of  the  members  as  to  impress  their  imagination  through  part- 
nership m  a  dread  secret.  There  is  in  these  ceremonies  much 
converse  with  skulls,  skeletons,  blood,  knives,  the  dark  of 
the  moon, 

With  more  of  terrible  and  awfu' 
Whidi  e'en  to  name  wad  be  unlawfu', 

for  good  instances  of  which  the  reader  is  referred  to  Steven- 
son's "Lantern  Bearers"  and  Thomas  Bailey  Aldrich's 
"Story  of  a  Bad  Boy." 

A  common  expression  of  the  gang  is  m  the  hang-out  or 
stamping  ground.   There  is  of  course  the  practical  necessity 
of  having  the  meetings  in  some  particular  place ;  and  some 
one  place  will  naturally  be  the  most  convenient.  There  is 
also  the  force  of  habit  to  prevent  a  change.   But  besides 
these  practical  considerations  there  is  a  dear  tend«M^  tsh 
ward  localization,  the  identifying  of  the  gang  consciousness 
with  some  especial  place.   The  Franks  easily  become  the 
French,  children  of  the  land  of  France,  until  France  becomes 
to  them  la  pairie,  the  Fatheriand,  the  goddess  of  their  tribe 
consciousness.   Even  a  dog  soon  learns  where  your  land 
ends,  and  takes  a  wholly  different  attitude  toward  strangers 
and  other  dogs  as  soon  as  they  cross  the  boundary.  The 
hang-out  may  be  a  hut,  a  deserted  shed,  or  merely  a  street 
comer.   The  gang  likes  best  a  place  that  it  can  fix  up  for 
itself — bestow  its  treasures  in  and  decorate  to  suit  its  special 
taste.   At  all  events  the  meeting  place  must  not  be  domi- 
nated by  an  alien  power.   And  it  must  not  be  wholly  finished 
or  too  clean.  It  b  hard  for  a  gang  to  become  dooMsticated 


358  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

in  a  model  club  room  or  a  best  parlor.  A  clergyman  of  my 
acquamtance,  on  taking  possession  of  a  house  provided  by  his 
parishioners  for  social  work,  kicked  a  hole  in  the  plaster  by 
way  of  inauguration  ceremony,  in  order,  as  he  exphuned,  to 
make  the  boys  feel  more  at  home  in  it. 

But  after  all  the  most  important  thing  about  the  gang  is 
the  strength  of  the  sheer  belonging  unpulse  which  it  repre- 
sents a  strength  sufficient  by  itself  to  prescribe  the  occupa- 
tion (or  the  Idleness)  of  many  hours.  The  gang  does  not  so 
mi  ;h  meet  to  do  things  as  do  things  for  the  sake  of  meeting. 
The  exerc«e  of  the  belonging  instinct  is,  in  this  case,  its  own 
reward. 

College  societies  well  illustrate  the  exuberance  of  this 
instinct  m  its  pure  state,  unmixed  with  any  extraneous  pur- 
P^  or  desu^.   The  members  join  these  organizations  not  in 
Older  that  they  may  take  part  with  others  in  accomplishing 
^  specific  object,  but  simply  in  order  to  belong;  and  the^ 
sole  activity  m  many  cases,  once  they  do  belong,  is  to  take  in 
other  members  so  that  they  may  belong  also.   These  m  turn 
take  in  still  others;  and  thus  in  self-perpetuation  the  whole 
cycle  of  the  society's  activity  is  complete.   It  is  true  that 
college  students  are  beyond  the  age  of  the  gang  proper,  but 
^Zu^        ''^'^  notoriously  privUeged  to  prolong  their 
childhood.  Moreover,  so  far  as  the  exuberance  of  the  sheer 
belonging  impulse  is  concerned,  the  manifestations  do  not 
cease  with  college  life.   The  same  characteristic  appears  in 
many  of  those  societies  and  orders  that  spring  up  so  plenti- 
fiUly  among  grown  persons  in  our  democracy.   Indeed  the 
majority  of  us  are  "jiners"  at  heart,  and  wUl  join  almost 
anj^mg  without  inquiring  very  strictly  into  what  the  pro- 
posed organization  is  expected  to  accomplish,  while  of  our 
constitutional  non-joiners  it  may  be  said  that  the  greater 
number,  even  of  these.  wiU  join  moet  things  rather  than  be 


THE  GANG 


359 


left  out.  The  belonging  instinct  is  indeed  preeminent  in  its 
power  <rf  standing  alone,  or  nearly  so,  as  the  basis  of  a  popu- 
lar  amusement. 

An  important  result  of  its  independence  of  specific  pur- 
poses IS  that  the  gang,  unlike  the  team,  is  permanent.  Its 
continuance  is  not  dependent  upon  the  seasons  or  other  ex- 
tranwus  conditions.  Its  members  are  members  all  the  year 
round  and  often  continue  such  for  several  years.* 

^/V^l  ®^  Master  of  the 

wiri         r  ^'  ^""^^  5  Chancery  Division.  458  is 

A^^u'^'^''^  ''^  EngUsh  U^w  from  t^ytog  to 

deal  with  a  business  partnership  as  made  up  of  rebtions  betw^in 

^*  ""'Y       ^^"^  ^""^  '  ^"""^ '       been  introduced 
nership  IS  a  sort  of  agencqr,  but  a  very  peculiar  one.   You  oaSnoI 

of  '"'r^"'  °'  ^™  '^^  ^^^"^'^  entit/froHe  ex! 
wtenoe  of  the  partners ;  a  notion  which  was  weU  grasped  by  the  old 
R,man  lawyers,  and  which  was  partly  undenrto^^^e  Joml  ^ 
J^mty  before  it  was  part  of  the  whole  law  of  the  land,  as  iVunow 

S^niy  frirTs  T  ''"^  ^ 

agency  It  IS.   «  is  the  one  person  acting  on  behalf  of  the  firm  He 

itltolJ^HTl^?.?'  ^  °'  for  the  others 

so  M  to  Und  tbe  othen ;  he  aota  on  behalf  of  the  firm  of  which  they 
are  members ;  and  as  he  binds  the  firm  and  acts  on  the  part  of  the 
firm,  he  IS  properly  treated  as  the  agent  of  the  firm.  If  y««,  oaanot 

E  .  °'  *  "P*"**         ^'  *^  «™'  *^«»°  yo«  «we  re- 

auced  to  this,  that  .nasmuoh  as  he  acts  partly  for  himself  and  partly 
for  the  others,  to  the  extent  that  he  acts  for  the  others  he  must  be  an 
agent  and  m  that  way  you  get  him  to  be  an  agent  for  the  other  pvt- 
ners.  but  only  in  that  way,  because  you  inaist  upon  ignoring  th*  «. 
Mteaoe  of  the  firm  m  s  wparate  entity." 

A  firm  thua  treated  as  an  entity  or  a  corporation  created  by  statute 
M  not  a  legal  fiction  but  an  existing  fact  which  the  law  reoognites  or 
"•notions.  A  fiction  would  be  neoessary  in  treatiog  tbs  mattw  in 
aayotlMrwaar.  ^      "-ew  »a 


CHAPTER  XL 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  LB&L 

It  is  clear  from  the  above  description  of  the  gang  that  it  is 
tot  boys  the  fullest  natural  expression  of  the  great  belonging 
instinct.  As  such  it  b  normally  not  an  evil  but  a  good. 
Lawless  as  its  manifestations  often  are,  the  thing  itself  is  not 
lawless ;  on  the  contrary  it  is,  for  boys  of  the  age  affected  by 
it,  like  the  self-assertion  of  the  Big  Injun  age,  the  most  lawful 
thing  there  is.  The  spu-it  of  the  gang  indeed  is  more  than 
lawAil :  it  is  the  spirit  of  law  itself.  The  instinct  that  sup- 
ports it  is  the  instinct  which  all  hews  and  all  governments  were 
intended  to  express  and  withou*  which  they  could  not  exist. 

Aristotle  says  that  man  is  by  his  nature  a  social  animal, 
and  he  attributes  the  existence  of  human  society  directly  to 
that  fact.  We  make  dties  and  states  and  nations  not  be- 
cause we  find  them  useful  in  our  bu^ess,  not  because  they 
help  us  to  accomplish  our  economic  or  other  ulterior  ends, 
but  because  we  were  born  that  way.  Nature  doubtless  had 
her  purpose  in  creating  us  with  this  desire  —  or  to  put  it  in 
current  terms,  our  survival  is  no  doubt  due  to  this  predilec- 
tion on  our  part  —  but,  given  human  nature  as  it  is,  our 
motive  for  social  action  is  not  utilitarian.  We  combine  in 
social  units  for  the  same  reason  that  "'olves  do,  or  bees,  or 
ants  —  because  we  are  that  kind  of  animal.  And  if  we  were 
not  that  kind  of  animal  we  could  not  so  combine,  however 
desirable  it  might  be  to  do  so.  Given  the  power,  and  the 
resulting  institutions,  we  do  indeed  promote  and  modify 

360 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  LEAL  361 

these  for  utilitarian  reasons;  and  we  often  believe  that 
these  sensible  second  thoughts  are  our  real  motives  lor  com- 
bining -  just  as  the  gang  finds  many  wonderful  excuses  for 
Its  existence.  But  these  are  never  the  real  motives.  The 
mstmet  that  makes  all  laws  and  social  institutions  i«.  the 
same  instinct  that  has  made  the  gang.  It  is  always  in  virtue 
of  the  belonging  instinct  that  we  belong. 

And  without  training  in  obedience  to  this  instinct  we  could 
not  belong  effectively  any  more  than  we  could  become  good 
artisans  or  good  runners  without  permitting  the  chasing  and 
creative  instincts  to  train  our  legs  and  hands  If  we  would 
have  our  children  full  and  useful  members  of  society  in  any 
of  Its  manifestations,  we  must  permit  them  to  take  the  pre- 
scnbed  course  under  this  hwt  and  greatest  of  aU  the  masters 
in  nature  s  school. 

It  may  perhaps  be  said  that  we  can  procure  this  training 
in  other  ways  than  through  developing  the  gang;  ard  it  is 
m  troth  unnecessary  to  insist  that  all  boys  shall  take  the  full 

course  m  gang  membership  in  its  mwt  primitive  form.  The 
manifestations  may  be  modified  in  various  ways  which  we 
shall  presently  consider.   But  to  do  away  with  this  primal 
egression  of  the  belonging  instinct  altogether  would  be  to 
cripple,  at  least  in  many  boys,  the  power  of  membership  by 
omitting  from  it  a  necessary  stage  of  growth.  Tne  gang  is 
not  a  chance  phenomenon.  It  is  nature's  unit  for  the  U  • 
longing  instinct  during  this  period  of  its  special  vogue;  it  is  ' 
the  branching  off  of  membership  in  its  new  and  accelerated 
development,  the  first  bud  of  the  state.   As  such  its  growth 
in  some  form  is  necessary  to  the  best  result.   To  arrive  at 
nature  s  ends,  you  must  follow  nature's  path.   It  may  seem 
roundabout,  and  you  may  be  tmpted  to  lay  out  some  cross- 
10  3  method  that  looks  more  direct ;  but  growth  is  a  bidogi. 
cai  not  an  engineering  problem,  and  growing  things  ouiiiot 


362 


PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


be  made  to  follow  geometric  laws.  Belonging,  to  the  boy, 
means  as  a  rule  belonging  to  the  gang.  The  growth  of  the 
citizen  in  him  is  involved  in  the  fortunes  of  this  earliest 

shoot. 

Here  again,  as  with  the  child  finding  its  playground  in  the 
gutto*  and  with  the  small  boy  seeking  real  achievement,  we 
have  so  arranged  it,  especially  in  om-  cities,  that  this  budding 
power,  upon  whose  successful  utterance  healthy  growth  de- 
perds,  shall  search  in  vain  for  lawful  methods  of  develop- 
ment, and  shall  be  driven,  in  many  cases,  to  choosing  those 
which  make  of  it  a  power  for  evil.  One  can  hardly  pick  up 
a  newspaper  or  a  magazine  without  reading  something  of  the 
terrible  doings  of  the  gang.  We  hear  of  it  as  a  center  of  crim- 
inal association,  and  as  developing  into  the  unit  of  corrupt 
politics.  There  is  frequent  talk  about  breaking  up  the  boys' 
gangs ;  and  sometimes  the  associations  of  a  gang  have  got 
to  be  so  bad  that  nothing  but  breaking  it  up  can  save  its 
members.  But  it  is  a  grave  criticism  upon  the  opportunity 
which  we  have  given  —  or  rather  denied  —  to  our  boys,  that 
such  instances  should  occur.  I  think  there  is  some  special 
judgment  denounced  against- those  who  would  turn  the  vital 
forces  of  the  world  into  channels  where  their  results  are  evil 
instead  of  good,  pulling  down  instead  of  building  up.  This 
juagment  our  American  cities  have  thoroughly  merited,  and 
it  is  now  being  meted  out. 

The  way  to  preserve  tjie  arang  as  a  normal  incarnation  of 
the  belonging  instinct,  and  at  the  same  time  to  avoid  such 
manifestations  of  it  as  are  incompatible  with  modem  dviliza- 
tion,  is  obviously  to  provide  opportunity  and  encouragement 
for  those  of  its  natural  expressions  that  avoid  this  inconven- 
ience. The  fighting  impulse  should  find  expression  in  the 
fighting  games.  For  the  raiding  instinct  there  are  the  raid- 
ing games,  now  too  much  neglected,  for  which,  in  our  crowded 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  LEAL  868 

cities,  some  substitute  must  if  possible  be  found.  Long 

walks,  excursions,  picnics,  camping  out,  cross-country  runs 
makmg  huts  and  hang-outs,  tracking  other  boys  and  ani- 
mals; fishing,  shooting,  collecting,  and  photographing  ex- 
peditions; visits  to  strange  scenes  -  including  l  reasonable 
allowance  of  danger,  starvation,  and  fatigue  -  these  and 
similarly  appropriate  and  strenuous  pursuits  wiU  meet  a 
long  felt  want  in  any  gang,  and  help  materially  in  keeping  it 
to  lawful  ways.   Boys  indeed  are  often  surprised  to  find  what 
a  pace  then-  elders  can  set  for  them  and  how  satisfying  to 
tiieir  moral  requirements  a  perfectly  innocent  pursuit  can 
The  activities  developed  by  the  Boy  Scouts  can  do  much  to 
fill  in  this  gap.   And  when  it  has  been  fiUed,  our  suburban 
gardens  and  orchards,  our  prisons  and  police  courts,  the  fruit 
dealer  and  the  grocery  man,  will  know  the  difference ;  while 
mothers  and  fathers  wiH  see  their  boys,  now  go-ng  wrong 
from  excess  of  the  best  quaKties  of  boyhood,  restored  to 
decent  and  successful  ways  of  life. 

hang-out  instinct  boys  should  be  given  the 
freedom  of  a  shed  or  play  room  or  an  old  attic;  and  their 
taste  m  furmshmg  and  ornamentation  should  be  allowed  to 
pass  without  comment  or  apparent  observation.  Respect 
your  boys  secrets,  and  if  you  happen  upon  their  rendezvous 
keep  the  matter  to  yourself.  The  fear  of  ridicule  has  prob- 
ably  driven  more  boys  to  secrecy,  and  to  doing  things  which 
they  take  aire  shall  at  all  events  be  no  laughing  matter, 
than  any  other  cause.  ' 

Theatricals  meet  very  accurately  both  the  night-hauntimr 
proclivities  and  the  imaginative  leanings  of  the  gang,  and  are 
often  used  with  success  in  turning  these  to  good  account, 
mere  IS  ft  theatrical  element  -  a  half  real,  half  symbolic 
quahty-  m  a  great  part  of  gang  activity  which  makes 
•ctrngftumstmctive  method  of  expression.  The  gang,  more 


364  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

than  the  individual  at  this  period,  retains  reminiscences  of 
the  dramatic  age. 
In  general  it  should  be  sud  that  this  method,  <rfdevdc^ 

ing  the  spirit  of  membership  by  utilizing  the  gang  itself  as  the 
natural  unit  of  development,  is  not  an  easy  one,  although  it  is 
being  successfully  practiced  by  the  Boy  Scouts  and  by  many 
of  the  small-sized  boys'  clubs  and  settlements.  The  soul 
of  the  gang  is  in  its  independence.  Its  Mm  is  above  all  to  be 
itself,  the  authentic  outcome  of  the  actual  social  spirit  of  its 
members,  not  the  offspring  of  a  foreign  will.  It  is  as  wild  as 
a  pack  of  wolves  and  almost  as  hard  to  tame.  And  it  cannot 
be  caught  by  any  lukewarm  morality.  Stories  of  the  good 
boy  who  died,  demands  for  the  passive  virtues  of  patience, 
resignatimi,  blameless  behavior,  do  not  appeal  to  it.  It  is 
positive,  masculine,  demands  rough  work,  will  submit  to  no 
spirit  less  heroic  than  its  own.  Dr.  Gulick  has  pointed  out 
that  the  call  most  successful  in  bringing  young  men  into  the 
church  has  been  the  call  f(ffmisn<maries.  They  will  not  come 
purely  to  receive :  but  ask  than  to  give,  even  thdr  lives, 
and  th^  recognize  a  demand  that  b  worth  attending  to. 

In  our  praise  of  the  gang  impulse  and  of  the  team  play  that 
best  mbodies  it,  do  not  let  \.  o  make  the  mistake  of  supposing 
that  we  am  leave  the  tnuning  of  the  dvic  faculty  to  these 
alone.  The  gang  contains  the  very  substance  of  whidi  dti- 
zenship  is  made,  but  it  is  the  substance  in  its  crude  form. 
Its  ethics  are  those  of  the  war  band,  and  need  the  correction 
of  a  wider  loyalty.  As  between  itself  and  all  outsiders  it  has 
no  sense  of  justice  and  inculcates  none.  The  gang  spirit, 
in  short,  besides  being  intoisified,  must  be  refined  auod  very 
much  enlarged. 

In  this  as  in  every  other  case  of  a  passing  expression  of  a 
great  mstinct,  there  is  danger  that  adhesions  shall  be  formed. 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  LEAL 


ses 


that  the  early  form  shall  survive  its  usefulness.  We  do  not 
wwt  middle-aged  gangsters,  nor  perpetual  ball  players,  any 
more  than  we  want  children  to  ke^  on  through  life  making 
mud  pies.  The  coming  of  the  blossom  involves  the  bunting 
of  the  bud.  Our  constant  principle  of  t^irHinm  implies 
not  only  beginning,  but  leaving  off. 

The  method  of  broadening  the  gang  b  by  treating  it  as  the 
gang  itself  has  already  treated  the  mdividual :  by  making  it 
part  of  some  n^-re  inclusive  organization,  subjecting  it  to 
the  regulation  and  criticism  of  a  larger  whole.   Boys'  chibs 
are  often  built  up  upon  this  principle,  making  tha  gang  rather 
than  the  individual  boy  the  unit  of  organization,  but  bringing 
many  gangs  together  into  a  larger  loyalty.  The  school  also 
may  adopt  the  same  procedure,  recognising  existing  gangs  in 
its  choice  of  teams,  either  for  athletic  or  scholastic  purposes. 
There  is  no  conflict  between  the  preservation  of  the  small 
gang-sized  unit  and  the  development  of  the  wider  school  or 
club  loyalty.  Belonging,  in  human  beings,  is  not  limited  to 
one  social  body  at  a  time ;  on  the  contrary  true  membership 
in  one  unit  oftwi  strwigthens  the  power  in  regard  to  others. 
A  man  is  not  a  worse  citizen  because  he  is  a  good  father,  nor 
does  he  love  his  country  less  in  proportion  as  he  loves  his 
city  more.   Boys,  it  is  true,  during  the  special  gang  age  are, 
if  we  might  coin  a  word,  monogangous;  the  specific  gang 
impulse,  like  that  of  patriotism,  monogamous  marriage,  w 
the  homing  instinct,  seems  to  require  one  object  and  only 
one  for  its  fulfillment.   But  though  the  boy  has  but  one  gang, 
his  membership  in  that  does  not  prevent  his  belonging  to 
other  more  inclusive  bodies.  Gang  members  can  be  as  pa- 
triotic, and  can  fed  as  strong  a  loyalty  to  thdr  home  or  to 
their  school,  as  anybody.   And  in  general  the  relation  of  the 
smaller  units  of  membership  to  the  larger  ones  is  tiiat  of  mu- 
tual support  rather  than  of  antagonism. 


866  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


In  a  great  degree  the  smaller  unit  is  the  matrix  of  tin 
larger  one :  the  school,  the  city,  the  nation  are  but  the  ganj 
writ  large.  Having  established  the  color  —  allowed  the  ho\ 
through  the  depth  of  his  first  instinctive  belonging  to  know 
what  it  u  to  be  true  blue  —  we  spread  it  over  the  wider  area 
And  the  gang  spirit,  or  the  belonging  instinct  back  of  it,  ii 
v«y  susceptible  of  such  development.  The  head  of  a  boys 
institution  once  said  to  me :  "  When  they  first  come  in  hen 
they  steal  from  the  institute ;  later  they  steal  fur  it."  Onct 
estaUished,  the  sense  of  membership  can  be  gradually  wid- 
ened to  include  the  larger  whole.  Boys  readily  feel  tha< 
George  Washington  was  playing  the  game  and  Boiedict  Api 
nold  was  not ;  those  in  whom  the  germ  has  once  got  a  foot- 
hold are  good  subjects  for  its  further  operation.  But  while 
the  belonging  instinct  easily  throws  off  these  widening  rings, 
the  gang  itself  or  MHne  successor  of  it,  some  club  or  "  goodly 
feUowship,"  some  compact  body  of  social  equab,  loually 
survives  and,  for  reasons  developed  more  fully  in  the  next 
chapter,  it  is  very  desirable  that  it  should  do  so. 

The  effective  way  to  develop  school  spirit,  to  make  a  school 
as  distinguished  from  a  place  m  which  the  children  sit  and 
study  (or  rest)  certain  hours  out  of  evrry  day,  b  {wactically 
the  same  as  that  by  which  the  gang  instinctively  enhances 
its  own  existence.  There  should  be  school  teams,  not  only 
in  games  but  in  science,  art,  debating,  theatricals,  and  music. 
There  should  be  glee  clubs,  mandolin  and  banjo  clubs,  a 
school  orchestra,  songs  and  plays  written  and  rendered  by  the 
pupils,  entertainments  given  by  the  school.  There  shouU  be 
school  occasions,  a  school  birthday,  or  the  birthday  of  its 
founder,  who  should  be  a  sort  of  patron  saint ;  commence- 
ment exercises  in  which  graduates  come  back  and  tell  what 
they  have  done  and  become  shining  lights  to  illuminate  for 
the  present  pupils  the  road  ahead.  There  should  be  ritual, 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  LEAL  867 

such  as  the  symbolic  handing  on  of  the  flag  from  the  graduat- 
inf  daas  to  the  next  in  order.  There  should  be  a  school 
emWem,  a  school  color,  a  school  song.  The  school  should 
have  us  ancestors,  ^.he  past  heroes  of  its  athletics  with  the 

appropriate  myths  of  their  superhuman  deeds,  its  heroes 
of  art  and  politics.  It  must  have  and  celebrate  a  past,  a  pres- 
ent,  and  a  future  — cultivate  tradition  and  aspiration,  study 
the  richest  presentation  of  what  it  has  done,  what  it  hopes 
to  do,  and  what  it  eternally  is  and  means  to  be.  These  are 
of  the  very  life  of  a  school  as  of  a  true  institution  of  any  sort. 

Rhythm  should  not  be  forgotten  as  the  great  fusing  power. 
It  should  be  utilized  not  only  in  music  and  poetry  performed 
by  selected  representatives,  but  in  marching,  congregational 
singing,  perhaps  some  day  in  dancing,  the  original  foim  of 
community  expression.  The  school  should  be  visualised  in 
fit  and  dignified  buildings,  not  crushing  it  down  with  a  vast 
suggestion  of  expense,  out  embodying  its  use  and  purpose. 
School  loyalty  should  be  cultivated  through  definite  services 
to  the  school.  The  smaUer  children  should  be  encouraged 
to  bring  pictures  and  flowers  and  to  take  cue  of  growing 
plants.   Older  children  should  be  given  responsibility  in 
looking  after  the  younger  ones,  coaching  them  in  their  games, 
inculcating  a  spirit  of  loyalty.    Manual  training  should  take 
so  far  as  possible  the  direction  of  makug  things  that  will  be 
used  in  the  school  and  on  the  playground,  though  in  a  day 
school  it  would  be  impossible  to  reach  the  standard  set  by 
Hampton  in  this  respect. 

The  school  cannot  make  use  of  the  conspiring  spirit  of  the 
gang.  It  cannot  indulge  in  blood-curdling  rites,  both  because 
the  masters,  who  are  members  like  the  rest,  would  find  it 
impossible  to  take  these  ceremonies  seriously,  and  because 
the  school,  unlike  the  gang,  has  ceased  to  need  for  the  pro- 
motion  of  its  own  self-consciousness  that  hostility  to  all 


868  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


oiitsidat  wlttdb  thaw  rit«  umally  imply.  On  tht  oonlnix 
the  pupils  mmt  be  led  on  by  maiten  and  graduatet  to  unckr- 
■Und  that  other  relations  between  groups  are  possible  besides 
thow  of  hostility.  They  might  be  told  the  story  of  Pastew, 
whow  strongest  conscious  motive  in  his  eternal  service  to 
mankind  seems  to  have  been  to  get  even  with  the  Germans 
for  Sedan.  They  should  be  led  to  feel,  at  all  events,  that 
competition  is  not  necessarily  intenwdne,  that  at  bottom  aU 
loyal  members  of  all  organizations  serve  the  same  end,  are 
children  of  the  same  ideal.  The  school  must  therefore  in 
all  practical  ways  suggest  a  wider  loyalty.  There  should  be 
athletic  leagues  in  wfaidi  several  sdiods  ibd  a  commtm  in- 
terest  in  having  the  games  fairiy  carried  on. 

In  general  the  boy's  team  sense  should  be  taken  at  its  most 
exalted  moment,  before  it  has  hardened  down  into  exclusive- 
ness  or  incapacity  for  generous  appreciation  of  outsiders; 
and  at  this  pinnt  there  shouki  be  injected  mto  it  the  kiea  that 
a  narrow  loyalty  is  disloyalty  to  tlw  very  simit  of  wluch  true 
loyalty  consists  —  that  taking  tne  gang  as  finM  means  dis- 
loyalty to  the  school ;  that  exclusive  devotion  to  the  school 
means  disloyalty  to  the  college,  and  that  the  graduates  of  a 
cdleg  ho,  when  {daced  in  responsible  business  office,  give 
I»efCTei  e  to  their  fellow-graduates,  are  disbyal  not  merdy 
to  their  employer  but  to  the  college  itself  by  identifying  it 
with  such  disloyalty.  In  short,  our  boys  and  girls  must  be 
taught  Mr.  Royce's  spirit  of  loyalty  to  loyalty,  including  that 
of  yoiu"  opponents. 

I  wish  we  had  the  Scotch  wwd  leal — loyal  and  happy — the 
iroUest  word  I  think  in  any  language.  The  Land  o'  the  Leal, 
the  true  Valhalla,  home  of  the  happy  warriors  of  all  nations  and 
of  all  faiths,  the  land  where  true  f oem  -  meet,  and  see  that  each 
was  working  for  the  one  true  cause :  that  b  the  heaven  that  is 
worth  attaining,  and  such  is  the  loyalty  we  must  learn  toteadi. 


CHAPTER  XLI 


IBB  OyUro  nAMTtAID 

gang's  indepoidence  oS  specific  aims  and  purposes  has 
one  especially  important  result  not  noted  in  the  last  chi^iter. 
Membership  independent  of  specific  purpose  beeomea  mem- 
bership for  all  purposes.  The  gang  consciousness  comes  to 
be  expressed  not  merely  in  this  or  that  activity  but  in  almost 
everything  its  members  do.  The  boy  carries  his  gang  with 
him  wherever  he  goes;  it  beoomes  a  constant  force  and 
quality  in  him ;  he  is  a  Wharf  Rat  or  a  Ring  Tailed  Heeler  in 
all  relations.  The  gang  in  short  does  not  merely  prescribe 
action;  it  confers  status :  it  affects  fw  each  member  not  (miy 
what  he  does  but  what  he  is. 

It  results  that  the  gang  has  a  great  influence  on  individual 
conduct.  The  sort  of  influence  varies  much  with  different 
gangs;  it  has  nevertheless  a  general  pretty  well-defined  di- 
rection. So  far  as  individual  relations,  as  distinguished  from 
gang  activities,  are  concerned,  the  gang  takes  over,  practically 
entire,  the  ethical  standards  of  the  Big  Injun  age ;  the  new 
law  is  superimposed  upon,  but  does  not  abrogate,  the  old. 
Indeed  the  desire  for  individual  distinction  characteristic  of 
thu  earlier  period  becomes  intensified;  the  boy  of  fourteen 
is  even  more  of  a  Big  Injun  than  the  boy  of  eight,  although  he 
is  also  smnething  else. 

And  the  specific  gang  spirit,  so  far  from  discouraging  the 
Big  Injun  tendencies,  except  wh»e  they  come  m  conflict 
with  its  own  purpose,  adopts  and  sanctions  them.    In  the 
execution  of  a  gang  maneuver  the  member  must  subordinate 
2b 


370  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

his  individual  ambition  to  the  common  purpose;  but  where 
there  is  no  conflict  the  gang  not  only  pennits,  but  requires 
of  him,  that  he  shall  seek  personal  distinction.   It  holds  up 
an  ideal  not  only  of  common  but  of  individual  achievement 
and  requires  obedience,  to  it.   As  a  boy  who  represents  an 
organization  in  track  athletic,  feels  the  two  motives  both 
together;  as  he  wants  to  win  for  Yale,  and  wUl  go  beyond 
himself —  just  that  all  important  inch  beyond  what  as  an 
individual  he  could  possibly  accomplish  —  in  his  efforts  to  do 
honor  to  his  college;  so  the  gang's  ideal  for  its  members 
projects  itself,  in  the  imagination  of  each,  beyond  his  indi- 
vidual outline,  and  under  its  requirement  he  adds  a  cubit  to 
his  height. 

And  it  is  not  merely  in  recognized  team  or  gang  contests 
that  t^re  occurs  this  transcendence  of  individual  limitations. 
What  "the  crowd"  expects  will,  in  every  direction,  carry  the 

memberbeyond  the  high-water  markof  his  individual  achieve- 
ment.  The  Spartan  is  a  Spartan  for  aU  purposes.  He  is 
Sparta  incarnate :  what  he  could  never  even  aim  at  of  his 
own  initiative  he  will  dare  to  satisfy  her  laws. 

It  is  characteristic  of  every  gang  to  make  this  kind  of 
demand  upon  the  individual  member.  Such  requirement 
is  shown  at  the  very  outset  in  the  conditions  of  entrance. 
Every  gang,  every  college  society  —  every  human  r.ssocia- 
tion  —  hac  some  sort  of  initiation,  conscious  or  unconscious, 
to  see  whether  the  neophyte  measures  up.  The  standard 
in  a  boys'  gang,  like  its  external  poUtics,  has  largely  to  do 
with  fighting;  only  here  it  is  single  combat  that  is  in  ques- 
tion. The  dueling  instinct  k  older  than  society,  and  in 
each  generation  of  boys  antedates  the  gang;  but  the  gang 
instinct  takes  it  up,  standardizes  it,  and  adds  its  own  pecul- 
iar sanction.    Fighting  is  a  common  test  for  admission  to 


THE  GANG  STANDARD  371 

the  gang  as  it  is  to  good  society  everywhere,  from  the  head 
hunters  to  the  aristocratic  circles  of  every  age  and  country. 
The  obhgation  upon  the  boy  to  aght  upon  due  occasion  and 
to  hold  his  own  in  the  hundred  forms  of  individual  com- 
petition is  owed  not  merely  to  himself  but  to  the  gang.  He 
must  in  this  as  in  every  other  respect  uphold  its  colors. 
And  he  usually  finds  he  can  do  so,  as  many  a  man  will  do 
things  for  the  honor  of  his  cloth  which  he  could  never  have 
gone  through  by  the  power  of  his  individual  morality. 
Fighting  IS  a  characteristic  requirement,  but  not  the  only 
one.  The  law  of  the  whole  as  it  lives  in  each  member  implies 
a  general  obligation  to  make  good. 

What  may  be  the  cause  of  this  gang  law,  applying  to  the 
individual  conduct  of  its  mem'oers  unconnected  with  the 
gang  activities,  is  an  interesting  but  not  a  practicaUy  im- 
portant speculation.  Shore  birds  (perhaps  all  birds  that 
go  in  flocks)  will  kill  a  wounded  mate.  I  suppose  the  reason 
IS  that  the  flock  can  fly  no  faster  than  its  weakest  member, 
and  that  the  same  instinct  which  forbids  the  abandonment 
of  the  living  comrade  prescribes  his  sacrifice.  So  the  gang 
asks,  "Are  you  up  to  our  requirements;  can  you  row  your 
weight ;  or  will  you  be  a  drag  upon  the  rest  ?  "  And  though 
It  does  not  kill,  it  accomplishes  the  same  object  by  exclusion 
of  those  whose  answer  must  be  negative. 

At  all  events,  whatever  the  reason  of  its  existence,  this 
Standard  setting  by  the  gang,  the  impinging  of  its  law  upon 
Its  members  in  their  individual  affairs,  is  I  believe  the  strong- 
est moral  force  that  applies  to  youth.  That  it  is  not  always 
ft  force  for  good  gives  rise  to  a  social  problem  of  the  first 
magnitude  which  we  must  presently  consider.  But  that  it 
IS  a  great  power  for  good  or  evil  I  think  no  one  will  deny. 

One  reason  for  the  abiUty  of  the  gang  to  enforce  its  stand- 


372  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


ard  is  that  it  has  the  courage  of  its  convictions.  It  will  go 
all  lengths.  It  is  the  only  educational  institution  that  is 
not  afraid.  Intra-gang  discipline  is  very  strict  in  its  punish- 
ment of  disloyalty;  but  its  positive  spirit  is  its  great  quality. 
It  carries  its  members,  with  it  whether  for  good  or  evil. 
St.  Augustine  concludes  that  he  would  never  have  stolen 
those  pears  if  the  other  fellows  had  not  said:  "Come  on." 
If  the  gang  standard  demands  fighting,  its  members  fight ; 
if  it  requires  stealing,  they  steal;  if  breaking  and  entering 
is  a  part  of  the  curriculum,  that  also  is  forthcoming. 

Vnd  the  end  so  emulously  sought  is  never  wholly  evil. 
The  true  end,  indeed,  is  never  really  so,  however  mistaken 
or  even  criminal  the  means.  The  gang,  every  gang,  however 
uncouth  its  outward  manifestations,  is  always  idealist  at 
heart.  Through  good  repute  and  ill  repute,  in  all  its  dim 
gropings  for  expression,  it  is  ruled  by  an  incorrigible  idealism, 
by  a  dreamer's  faith  that  somehow,  somewhere,  against  all 
appearances,  its  ideals  are  true  and  bound  to  triumph,  and 
that  any  sacrifice  to  them  must  be  worth  while. 

The  gang  is  the  normal  source  of  heroic  standards  among 
young  men.  Its  value  in  this  respect  is  recognized,  appar- 
ently, in  English  boarding  schools,  which  seem  to  rely  upon 
a  set  of  bigger  boys  for  the  iaost  important  part  <rf  scfaod 
government,  lely,  the  maintenance  of  standards  of  man- 
ners and  conduct.  The  war  band  of  the  ancient  Germans, 
the  "Young  Men"  among  our  own  Indians,  are  the  origina- 
tors of  boM  adventure  and  hraoic  counsel,  as  are  the  well- 
named  schohe,  clubs  of  warriors,  in  every  time  and  nation, 
from  the  hetaireiai  of  the  Greeks,  the  peers  of  Charlemagne, 
and  their  predecessors  the  "companions"  of  the  German 
war  kings,  to  the  bands  of  minute  men  of  Massachusetts 
(one  of  which  still  survives  in  the  Concord  "  Circle  "  to  which 
Emerson  belonged)  and  the  young  (Peers'  dubs  of  the  pres- 


THE  GANG  STANDARD  373 

ent  day.  The  cadets  of  West  Point  and  Annapolis,  with 
their  fighting  customs,  and  the  German  dueling  societies 
are  not  so  crazy  as  people  think. 

Boys  do  not  join  the  gang  for  the  sake  of  pleasure  or  self- 
indulgence.  It  is  true  they  sometimes  think  they  do.  You 
have  to  state  to  yourself  some  object  for  your  endeftvors, 
and  if  raiding  apple  stands  is  the  most  eligible  occupation 
that  presents  itself,  you  doubtless  assume  that  it  is  for  the 
sake  of  the  apples  that  the  enterprise  is  carried  on  But 
it  is  never  reaUy  so.  To  cite  St.  Augustine  again,  he  finas 
that  It  was  not  the  pears  that  attracted  him  but  the  sheer 
love  of  stealing  -  "and  if  they  did  taste  good  it  was  the 
sweetness  of  stolen  fruit."   So  far  as  there  is  any  motive 
in  belonging  to  the  gang  beyond  the  direct  satisfaction  of 
the  betenglng  instinct  and  of  the  fighting,  raiding,  and 
other  achieving  instincts  represented  in  its  activities,  it  is,  as 
often  as  anything  else,  the  desire  for  hardness,  for  doing 
difficult  things  and  being  made  to  do  them,  the  desire  for 
emancipation  of  the  spirit  through  daring.   The  boy  may  be 
a  coward  in  his  heart,  but  his  instinct  of  the  moral  necessity 
of  being  otherwise  wiU  make  him  seek  the  gang,  with  it's 
inexorable  standard,  and  raise  himself  to  its  reqdronents. 
It  is  because  its  standard  is  inexorable,  more  uncompromising 
than  any  discoverable  among  adults,  that  it  holds  dominion 
over  him.  The  Knights  of  the  Round  Table  were  —  apart 

fromtheir  excessive  devotion  to  distiwjsed  damsels— the  ideal 
gang,  the  one  which  each  actual  example  tends  to  become. 
Courage,  adventure,  loyalty,  are  its  fundamental  motives. 

They  reckrn  ill  who  leave  me  out:  to  ignore  the  instinctive 
form  botii  jf  their  heroism  and  of  their  loyalty  is  to  give  up 
tiie  morri  education  of  our  boys.  Much  as  the  gang  has 
done  for  evU,  its  essential  spirit  is,  for  boys  between  twelve 
and  sixteen,  the  most  powerful  influence  for  good. 


374  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

This  fimction  of  the  gang  as  a  school  of  individual  heroism 
18  a  reason,  in  addition  to  its  importance  as  the  germ  of 
citizenship,  for  its  retention  in  our  educational  systian.  It 
needs  to  be  widened  and  refined,  but  its  spirit  of  intense  all- 
round  membership,  with  the  resulting  concrete  standard 
of  mdividual  conduct,  must  be  preserved.   The  gang  spirit 
must  be  spread  out  but  not  dUuted:  the  sort  of  close  fel- 
lowshipitrepresentsisneededasaschoolofconduct.  Young 
people  are  not  all  heroic.   No  people,  young  or  old,  are 
capable  of  evolving  their  own  standards  of  behavior  We 
aU  need  outside  pressure  of  a  fierce  and  inexorable  sort  to 
overcome  our  laziness  or  cowardice,  make  us  face  the  lion 
m  the  path,  strike  out  into  the  cold  world  upon  the  quest 
our  soul  demands  of  us.   Hunger  is  good,  but  an  exacting 
social  standard -searching,  concrete,  unescapable  -  such 
as  some  form  of  gang  alone  supplies,  is  better  still.  Re- 
member  again  the  dog  who  climbed  the  tree,  not  because  he 
could,  but  because  the  catamount  was  after  him  and  he  had 
to.  We  are  all  of  us  that  kind  of  dog. 

Manners  especially  are  a  social  product.   Good  manners 
are  the  most  important  of  our  institutions.   The  most 
difficult  problem  of  life  is  to  find  the  right  way  of  treating 
«»tlier  people  -  to  make  courtesy  coincide  with  independence 
respect  for  »  hers  with  entire  selffespect.  Actual  good 
manners  constitute  the  rarest  of  accomplishments  and  the 
most  respected,  whether  in  a  palace,  a  wigwam,  or  a  comer 
grocery.   They  are  the  most  authentic  credential  and  best 
acbevement  of  our  heroes.  But  even  heroic  genius  will 
hardly  hit  upon  a  whole  code  by  itself  alone.  And,  if  it 
should,  the  message  will  not  in  such  case  be  transmitted,  for 
lack  of  any  public  to  receive  it. 

Good  manners  and  good  mores,  actual  habits  of  behavior 
befittmg  human  dignity,  consonant  with  the  higher  human 


THE  GANG  STANDARD  375 

needs,  — these  are  our  most  precious  social  heritage;  and 
the  most  important  business  of  social  institutions  is  to  see 
that  their  tradition  is  passed  on.  Success  in  this  all-impor- 
tant function  requires  a  social  medium  tense  enough  to 
receive  and  to  transmit  the  heroic  conception  of  behavior 
as  It  IS  gradually  evolved.  Precept  in  this  all-important 
department  is  of  negligible  value.  Not  what  he  is  told  to 
do,  I  ut  what  he  sees  done  and  what  he  finds  required  of 
him  by  a  body  of  opinion  whose  pressure  he  cannot  escape, 
IS  the  force  that  molds  a  young  person's  standard  of  be- 
havior. 

And  the  standard  must  be  concrete.   The  type  set  up 
must  be  defined  to  a  degree  beyond  the  scope  of  any  possible 
description.  Behavior  is  not  a  science  but  an  art.  There 
are  a  hundred  matters  of  conduct  in  which  some  particular 
way  must  be  found,  although  no  way  is  demonstrably  best. 
I  am  not  arguing  for  pedantry  or  the  rule  of  the  martinet ;  as 
often  as  not  the  heroic  fashion  wUl  be  that  of  rebellion  against 
existing  formulas.  But  yet  there  must  be  some  element 
01  fashion,  some  conventional  requirements.  Young  people 
should  not  be  thrown  into  the  world  with  nothing  between 
them  and  its  infinite  and  perplexing  problems  but  the  Golden 
Rule  and  the  injunction  to  be  good.   There  must  be  definite 
ways,  prescribed  or  understood,  in  which  courage  shall  be 
danonstrated,  definite  forms  of  heroic  behavior  required, 
specific  ways  of  expressing  scorn  of  danger,  of  bribes,  cajol- 
eries,  of  showing  a  readiness  to  act  as  the  spirit  wills.   It  is 
all  the  better  perhaps  if  the  heroic  soul  rebels  against  the 
prescribed  way  and  shows  a  better  one ;  but  there  must  even 
in  that  case  be  a  way  to  rebel  against,  while  for  the  average 
unheroic  person  a  definite  standard  and  an  inexorable  social 
pressure  to  its  attainment  is  a  needed  help.  Children, 
though  not  bom  heroes  as  a  rule,  are  fortunatdy  all  bom 


376  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


siuoeptible  to  heroic  emnple,  and  they  ahouM  be  brou^t 
together  in  association  close  oioii^  to  allow  the  hooea 
among  them,  and  the  hero  in  each  whoi  he  dares  dedaie 

himself,  to  make  their  example  binding. 

When  the  yoimg  sayage  is  required  to  demonstrate  his 
proficiency  as  a  hunter  and  fighter  before  he  is  allowed  to 
marry,  the  educational  effect  must  be  very  different  from 
that  of  a  general  precept  to  "be  brave  and  skillful."  Civi- 
lized nations  have  preserved  something  of  the  wholesome 
savage  custom.  The  young  Athenian  had  to  meet  definite 
physical  and  moral  requirements  before  he  was  named  a 
"man."  Rome  made  simikr  conditions  to  putting  on  the 
tr  ja.  Hiere  is  some  reminiscence  of  sudi  even  at  the  prea* 
ent  day. 

But  the  important  part  of  such  requirements  must  always 
be  unwritten.  The  ideal  of  the  gentleman,  especially  as 
hdd  in  aristooratic  societies,  is  an  example  of  what  I  mean, 
lliere  has  been  built  up  around  thb  word  a  concrete,  ahnost 
visible,  ideal  of  character,  carried  far  beyond  what  can  be 
reasoned  out  from  any  conscious  principles,  the  composite 
portrait  of  a  gentleman,  to  which  a  thousand  forgotten  heroes 
have  added  each  a  trait.  The  creation  of  this  ideal  has  been 
in  my  opinion  the  greatest  achievement  of  the  En^^  race. 
It  is  an  epic  achievement,  a  work  embodying  the  mcwal 
genius  of  a  great  people,  a  poem  to  be  felt,  not  read,  more 
active  in  the  heart  of  youth  than  any  reading  of  Homer  could 
ever  make  his  heroes.  It  is  a  conception  concrete  yet  open 
to  an  infinite  projection.  In  some  respects,  it  is  true,  the 
ideal  of  the  gentleman  is  not  only  beyond  our  conscious 
principles  but  is  opposed  to  them,  as  in  the  place  it  assigns 
to  women,  treating  them  not  humanly  as  they  are,  L  -t  as 
the  male  imagination  of  some  centuries  back  required  them 
to  be.  And  yet  because  of  its  beauty  and  its  definiteness 


THE  GANG  STANDARD  377 
itis.  thoi^h  partly  obsolete,  superior  to  any  other  we  pc 

~r,f.  "^"^  ^ord  means 

-a  standard  that  can  be  deBnitely  D«Ment*d  tnr^u^C 
no  substitute  has  yet  been  fouT^^^  '  ""^'^ 

Wn"^n  ^'"^  the  Samurai  of 

effect  down  to  the  days  of  "good  society"  it^]f    !  J 

nrst  Item  ,n  the  individual  ethic  <rf  the  gang.  We  would 
not  perpetuate  f.be  ideals  of  ca«e,  but  Hlurt 

SZ'-  ""J.""'  ot  social  stnict^,"^ 

«f  t.c«™g  «rf  t«n™^,ti„g  definite  st.ndarfs  of 
™  which  the  inW  ot  c«t.  depends,  and  wfthout 

oJti^'"''f^'.         P"^-^        ''■'"kest  point  in 

the  east  coast  „f  South  Americ  were  genUeCThife 
tteirmore  civilised  cousins  of  the  west  oZ  wZ^t.'^ 
TOt«  So^t  mJces  a  similarly  unfavorable  comparison^ 

th  %Uandh.ls  Comp«»«„tothe«uneeffeet.reoLn 
d  "     between  the  manners  of  barbuun,  like  the  fiXto 

mftvcof  the  more  bw-barie  virtues,  there  is  enough  of  truth 
■n  the»  opinion,  to  be  worth  thinking  of    cfrtlr  ■. 

«  IS  for  the  sake  of  compMtne- ot  maOHnhq.  «d  » 


378 


PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


nikiiig  (KmcretenesB  ct  ideal  that  all  dogma,  all  intola«nce 
exuts.  We  are  apt  in  these  days  to  be  intolerant  of  intol- 
erance; and  surely  our  revolt  was  needed  in  view  of  the 
hideous  cruelty  and  stupidity  of  the  old  regime,  of  the 
depths  of  baseness  and  inhumanity  to  which  the  chivalric 
mind  showed  itself  able  to  descend.  But  we  are  mistaken 
if  we  think  that  we,  or  any  society,  can  live  ot  be  wwth 
preserving  without  aflSrming,  and  insisting  upon,  many  things 
the  truth  or  value  of  which  has  not  been  demonstrated. 
The  conduct  of  life  cannot  wait  upon  scientific  demonstra- 
tion. No  city,  nation,  society  of  any  sort,  will  ever  gain 
or  preserve  its  life  that  will  not  take  risks  —  a£Brm,  and 
gladly  die  tm,  things  that  never  can  be  proved. 

It  may  seem  that  I  have  arrived  at  a  paradoxical  con- 
clusion in  thus  affirming  in  substance  that  the  gang  must  be 
preserved  as  a  schod  oi  manners.  Good  manners  in  the 
ordinary  sense  are  certainly  not  among  its  salient  charac- 
teristics. But  consult  any  drama,  novel,  myth,  or  other 
illustration  of  what  has  been  deemed  heroic  character,  and 
you  will  see  that  what  is  most  respec  .ed  in  this  world  is  in 
the  last  analysis  that  very  scorn  of  pain  and  danger  which, 
in  a  higher  degree  than  any  other  institution,  the  gang 
requires  in  its  members.  The  German  upper  classes  send 
their  sons  to  Heidelberg  "to  learn  manners."  And  the 
manners  of  Heidelberg  are  prescribed  by  the  student  dueling 
clubs.  They  may  not  be  the  best  sort  of  manners,  but 
they  include  the  hard  part;  and  above  all  they  are  really 
taught. 

The  gang  of  coiu^e  must  be  corrected,  led,  set  right  on 
many  matters.  But  it  must  not  be  denatured.  We  need 
for  our  salvation  the  compelling  influence  of  such  an  insti- 
ixk^aa,  with  its  d^bite  standard  and  its  stem  transmission 


THE  GANG  STANDARD 


370 

of  it.  Man,  in  morals  as  in  war  and  industrial  pursuita, 
advances  not  alone,  but  by  group  units.  The  self-relying 
hero,  It  IS  true,  his  essential  function  as  standard-setter, 
moral  pioneer,  but  the  compact  group  vibrant  to  his  example 
IS  essential  even  to  the  hero's  fulfillment  ct  his  ftmctkm. 
it  IS  the  sod  in  which  heroic  acts  take  root. 


CHAPTER  XUI 


THE  LAAGER  UNITS  OF  MElfBEBSHIP 

The  gang  tendency  of  the  belonging  instinct  crops  out 

as  gang,  as  team,  club,  troup,  chorus  or  study  group,  and 
in  many  other  forms.  It  may,  as  has  been  stated,  easily 
be  widened  to  include  the  school  or  playground,  and  there 
are  many  other  organiisations  which  young  people  will  join 
m  the  early  exuberance  of  this  instinct,  name  not  so  valuaUe 
as  others  —  some,  like  most  high  school  fraternities,  in 
which  exclusion  of  outsiders  rather  than  the  belonging  of 
the  members  is  the  chief  attraction,  requiring  positive  dis- 
couragement. 

But  there  are  certain  units  of  monbership  appearing  later 
than  the  gang  and  school  which  seem  to  be  in  our  blood, 

which  we  certainly  take  to  with  especial  readiness,  and 
which  should  be  encouraged  both  as  normal  expansions  of 
human  personality  and  as  practical  social  appliances  which 
we  cannot  well  get  along  without;  namely,  the  profession, 
the  nation,  the  local  political  unit,  and  the  neighborhood. 
These  institutions  should  be  made  to  grow  in  all  of  us  both 
because  we  need  them  in  our  business  and  because,  like  the 
home,  the  gang,  or  the  team,  they  are  almost  as  much  a 
part  of  us  as  the  hand  or  tool.  They  fill  out  the  form  of 
our  inherited  spiritual  body ;  their  <Hnis«(m  imj^es  stunting 
and  deformity. 

all  these  social  units  the  neighborhood  is  perhaps 
the  most  important  in  its  educational  effect  because  its 
influence  b  especially  concrete.   Neighborhood  opinion 

380 


THE  LARGER  UNTO  OF  MBBIBERSHIP  381 

in  it  a  compelling  quality  that  is  lacking  in  the  larger 
umtt,  and  appU,.  to  matters  of  everyday  morals  and  be- 
havior which  these  cu  never  reach. 

And  the  neighborhood  is  pecuMy  m  need  of  cidtiv». 
tion  at  the  present  time  because  it  is  that  one  of  the  concen. 
tnc  cjrcles  of  human  personality  that  is  in  danger  of  dropping 
out  If  conscious  and  effective  means  are  not  presently  tak^ 
for  Its  preservation. 

The  danger,  like  so  many  others  that  threaten  our  social 
hfe.  arises  from  the  crowding  of  our  cities  and  the  eorre- 
sponding  loneliness  of  our  country  districts,  due  to  the  great 
unprovements  in  the  art  of  agriculture.  Country  people 
now  hve  so  far  apart  that  they  cannot  meet,  and  city  people 
so  near  together  that  they  cannot  breathe.  The  former  diffi- 
culty 13  being  partly  overcome  by  our  modem  spaceW 
hiiating  contrivances;  the  latter  .  more  stubborn  and  is 
ree^^ced  by  the  absence  of  common  interests  and  instl- 

A  patch  of  dty  b  not  a  poUtical  or  industrial  miit.  and  it 
.3  very  difficult  to  buiM  up  m  it  a  social  Hfe  of  ai^r  sort 

Its  institutions  are  not  its  own  but  those  of  the  larger  whole 

toon.  The  cton  s  real  associates  may  live  two  miles  off, 
whUe  he  and  his  next  neighbor  never  meet.  Even  the 
lodger  on  the  next  floor  may  marry,  die.  or  move  away, 
and  the  city  dweller  never  be  the  wiser.  If  indeed  he  h» 
real  neighbors,  even  at  a  distance,  the  lack  of  local  ties  may 
beto  a  considerable  extent  made  up.  The  social  set,  if  he 
belongs  to  one,  may  replace  the  neighborhood,  and  in  this 
matter  of  forming  congenial  alliances  the  dty  has  a  superior- 
Jtyin  the  larger  choice  it  offos.  StiU,  the  real  ndghbor- 
hood  has  two  great  advantages:  first  that,  as  Chesterton 
saysofthe.  t%.  it  includes  aU  sorts  of  people,  so 


882  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


tatabm  have  to  put  up  with  hunuui  nature  in  its  noiw 

mal  variety ;  and  secondly,  that  nobody,  whether  he  wants 
to  or  not,  gets  quite  left  out.  The  danger,  often  realized, 
is  that  the  city  dweller  may  have  no  neighbors,  or  at  least 
no  neighborhood  —  no  group  of  any  sort  in  which  he  feels 
a  membership  —  no  immediate  social  atmosphere,  no  stand- 
ard which  holds  him  up  and  which  he  feeb  it  his  business 
to  uphold.  He  easily  becomes  the  man  withou:  a  neighbw, 
almost  as  maimed  a  creature  as  the  man  without  a  ommtry 
or  the  man  without  a  home. 

The  kes  of  active  participation  in  neighborhood  affairs 
u  the  loss  ol  what  is  in  grown-up  life  the  first,  most  inti- 
mate and  concrete  fom  of  patriotism.  The  civic  loyalties 
of  the  neighborless  man  are  starved  at  the  root  for  lade 
of  content.  To  be  a  full-power  citizen  you  must  have 
W(»Tied  about  the  condition  of  your  own  street,  your  local 
school,  your  particular  branch  of  the  sewer  system.  You 
must  have  joined  with  your  nd^bora  in  impassioned  pro- 
test on  the  subject  of  garbage  removal  and  fought  against 
them  for  the  suppression  of  their  favorite  nuisance.  It  is 
these  direct  experiences  of  the  daily  humble  service  of  the 
working  citisen  that  give  perspective  to  your  views  on  such 
comparatively  simple  matters  as  the  tariff,  the  regulation  of 
the  trusts,  and  foreign  war. 

But  the  greatest  injury  to  the  individual  from  the  atro- 
phy of  the  neighborhood  in  modern  life  is  through  the  loss 
of  its  reflex  dffect  upon  hb  own  morality.  Plato  questions 
how  far  any  man  could  be  trusted  if  he  were  mvisiUe. 
Such  is  precisely  the  case  of  the  man  without  a  ndghbcn^ 
hood.  He  is  to  all  intents  and  purposes  invisible  so  far  as 
effective  check  upon  his  conduct  is  concerned.  Nobody 
sees  him  whom  he  need  ever  see  again  or  whose  opinion 
he  has  any  motive  to  conciliate.  The  people  of  his  own 


THE  LARGER  UNITB  OF  M/^IMBERSHIP  383 
street  need  know  nothing  of  his  life.   There  is  nobody  to 

™  *"  P«««nt  •  definite 

L  irT?^"*  Penality,  no  public  opinion  to  which 
he  .,  effectively  .mmM,  Owrthonie.  d«cribing  hi. 
consular  experiences  at  Liverpool.  giv«  iwUnce  which 
hesays  is  typical  of  many,  of  a  respectable  citizen  going 
moraUy  to  pieces  upon  finding  himself  for  the  first  dme 
•lone  m  a  for«gn  aty.  It  may  be  said  that  such  a  man 
hke  Bernard  W.  middle  cl«  English  people,  has  hi^' 
too  much  of  the  neighborhood,  has  relied  upon  the  hi«J» 
to  hold  hin  up  and  acquired  only  respectability,  not  life 

Z^Tuu  .  ^'^  neighbor- 

hood  itself  had  gone  to  sleep  for  lack  of  membership,  in  its 
turn,  in  a  larger  and  more  ftimulating  whole.  Indeed. 
Shaw  himself  says  that  the  troiiWe  with  re»pectia>le  people 
IS  their  leading  too  private  a  liie  in  too  small  a  circle 

In  any  case  it  remains  the  fact  that  we  all  of  us  need 
a  conoete  social  requirement  to  hold  us  up  to  the  mark,  to 
us  even  of  our  own  ideals  and  help  us  to  live  up  to 

The  neighborhood  unit  is  so  deep  in  us,  hr  had  so  hrn 
a  part  in  the  conditions  under  which  om-  social  instinct  to^ 
form,  that  we  cannot  live  successfully  without  it.   The  life 
erf  our  ancestors  for  many  thousand  years,  which  molded 
their  character  and  tradition.,  was  Kved  in  village..  From 
the  days  of  Tacitus  and  beyond,  the  viUage  community 
was,  next  to  the  faioily,  the  social  unit  of  the  Germanic 
peoples  -  and  of  the  other  races  also  for  that  matter.  The 
oid  Me  wa.  fairly  reproduced  in  the  English  village,  with 
Its  close  neighborhood,  it.  common  land,  its  village  green, 
which  m  Its  turn  was  transplanted  without  mateial  change 
so  far  as  neighborhood  influence,  are  concerned,  to  tkk 
country.  The  village  community  wa.  the  crucible  of  the 


384 


PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


race,  the  soil  in  which  it  grew,  its  nest,  its  natural  habitat, 
its  second  home,  to  which  its  social  mind  has  reference. 
Our  social  tentacles  feel  about  for  it  and  can  close  so  contentedly 
on  nothing  else.  Some  anthropologists  indeed  believe  that 
the  horde  —  the  ancestor  of  the  village  in  its  earlier  migratory 
stage  before,  like  a  barnacle,  it  attached  itself  to  a  partic- 
ular locality  —  is  older  than  the  family  itself. 

As  to  the  method  of  cultivating  the  neighborhood  and  the 
other  normal  units  of  membership  in  the  child,  it  will  in- 
clude the  means  already  described  as  appropriate  r  >  the 
school.  But  to  each  particular  unit  certain  methods  are 
e^)ecially  appropriate.  The  neighborhood  is  peculiarly 
susceptible  of  expression  in  the  form  of  play.  The  village 
green  must  have  had  a  good  share  in  its  original  creation, 
and  in  essentials  the  village  green,  even  in  our  cities,  can  be 
revived  — indeed,  if  we  use  all  the  resources  at  our  command, 
it  can  hi  some  ^sential  aspects  be  siu'passed. 

Play  should  accordingly  often  take  forms  that  represent 
the  neighborhood  and  receive  neighborhood  recognition. 
There  should  be  neighborhood  ball  teams,  neighborhood 
dances,  concerts,  plays,  entertainments.  Dramatics  are 
an  especially  valuable  and  effective  form  of  neighborhood 
occasion.  Neighbors  I  have  reason  to  believe  can  get  to- 
gether even  on  a  sand  beach  to  dance,  play  gtaaea,  and  gen- 
erally to  disport  themselves  on  moonlight  nights,  regardless 
of  age  and  apparent  social  or  physical  incapacity  —  even 
of  such  discoiu-agements  as  the  increasing  depth  and  wetness 
of  the  sand  and  inability  to  hear  the  distant  sorely  thumped 
piano.  Come  let  us  play  with  our  neighbws  should  be  added 
to  Froebel's  famous  exhortation  concerning  our  chDdren. 

The  school  is  already  becoming,  and  will  become  still 
more,  the  center  of  neighborhood  revival,  and  will  thus  re- 
store for  its  children  the  lost  unit  of  membership,  the  social 


THE  LARGER  UNITS  OP  MEMBERSHIP  385 

setting  in  which  they  can  best  grow,  the  all-embracing, 
definite,  and  conscious  social  standard,  the  lack  of  which 
is  their  present  greatest  educationji  disadvantage. 

The  battle  with  the  slum  is  not  primarily  t  battle  against 
the  obvious  evils  of  drink,  c  tr crowding,  ImmoraUty,  and 
bad  sanitary  arrangements.    The-^  are  the  evidences  that 
the  slum  exists.   The  thing  itself  is  not  a  positive  but  a 
negative  phenomenon.   The  slum  is  what  is  left  when  from 
an  aggregate  of  people  living  together  you  subtract  the  local 
personality.   It  is  the  body  of  a  dead  neigliborhood,  and 
what  happens  to  it  is  simply  the  normal  result  of  death  in 
any  organism.   Every  social  environment  that  is  not  a 
neighborhood  is  essentially  a  slum.   Its  consistency  has 
become  that  of  the  shifting  soil  of  the  desert.   It  is  here 
that  the  school  may  act  as  the  pioneer  plant,  the  broom 
or  scrub  pine  that  sends  its  roots  out  through  the  shifting 
mass  and  gives  it  its  first  coherence,  making  it  in  time  a 
true  soil  in  which  other  things  can  grow. 

Next  to  the  neighborhood  the  trade  is  the  unit  of  mem- 
bership most  neglected  in  our  modem  life.  The  guild, 
artel,  brotherhood  of  workers  in  the  same  calling,  was  an 
early  creation  of  the  belonging  instinct,  and  one  of  great 
importance.  With  its  professional  ideal  of  workmanship, 
making  the  honor  of  the  calling,  not  the  maiket  alone,  the 
standard,  it  stood  for  the  artistic  element  in  useful  work. 
It  represents  the  play  standard,  the  ideal  of  beauty  and 
craftsmanship,  the  elements  of  rhythm  and  creation,  as  su- 
perior to  the  hunger  or  purely  bread-and-butter  motive. 

And  the  guild  has  stood  for  making  good  also.  It  has 
especially  insisted  upon  the  pubUc  nature  of  true  work. 
The  guild  brother  was,  as  such,  a  dtisen,  and  recognised 
the  cjvic  responsibility  of  his  calling.  He  stuck  to  his  last 
not,  as  Plato  advises,  because  he  was  met^  a  woffanaa 

2c 


386  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


and  had  nothing  to  do  with  public  matters,  but  because  for 
the  very  reason  that  he  was  a  workman  he  exercised  a  public 
function  and  had  a  duty  to  hb  fellow  citizens.  It  was  no 
accident  that  the  guilds  played  a  great  part  in  the  political 
as  well  as  the  artistic  life  of  the  free  cities  out  of  which  our 
modern  democracy  has  grown. 

The  sort  of  place  occupied  by  the  guilds  is  taken  by  our 
professional  organizations  of  the  present  day.  Our  lawyers' 
and  doctors'  associations,  m  upholding  the  scientific 
standard  of  their  respective  callings,  attacking  abuses  of 
practice,  appearing  before  legislative  committees  to  advo- 
cate laws  simplifying  legal  machinery  or  curtailing  the  ac- 
tivities of  the  microbe,  —  thus  cutting  off  their  own  means 
of  subsistence,  —  persisting  in  this  course  in  spite  of  public 
misunderstanding  and  the  attacks  of  the  less  scrupulous 
members  of  their  own  professions  and  others  interested  in 
the  perpetuation  of  the  evils  aimed  at,  show  themselves 
true  public  servants  and  true  inY>fessionals  who  realize  for 
us  to-day  the  higher  attributes  <rf  caUing. 

Trade  unions  take  a  different  place.  Occupied  primarily 
with  the  relation  of  the  worker  not  to  his  work  but  to  his 
employer,  they  represent  an  economic  rather  than  a  profes- 
sional interest.  A  professional  standard  is  not,  however, 
whdly  absent  from  their  intration,  and  may  beccnne  m<»re 
prominent  as  time  goes  on,  although  there  is,  m  the  absence 
from  our  modern  callings  of  artistic  or  scientific  esiH>es- 
sion,  a  permanent  obstacle  to  such  development. 

Vocation  may  become  a  solid  ground  of  membership  in 
a  different  way,  namely,  through  cooperation.  Sir  Horace 
Plunkett,  who  has  been  the  most  success  social  ardiitect 
of  our  time,  has  encouraged  industrial  and  finandal  codpCTSp 
tion  among  the  peasantry  of  Ireland  largely  as  a  means 
toward  a  better  social  and  political  cooperation,  imd  has 


THE  LARGER  UNITS  OF  MEMBERSHIP  387 

advised  a  simUar  beginning  as  a  means  of  overcoming  the 
extreme  individualism  which  is  the  chief  barrier  to  social 
progress  among  our  own  country  people  in  America.  The 
future  of  cooperation  is  indee  the  future  of  industrial 
membership,  of  true  concrete  socialism. 

Coming  now  to  the  units  of  political  mmbership:  the 
town  or  city,  the  county,  and  the  state  are  the  most  important 
as  organs  of  internal  policy,  the  nation  as  embodying  rela- 
tions to  the  world  outside.  The  town,  as  the  descendant 
of  the  ancient  viUage  community,  the  county,  and  the  na- 
tion have  deep  historic  roots  which  however  it  ia  the  province 
rather  of  the  sociologist  than  of  the  educator  to  trace. 

The  method  of  cultivating  the  town,  city,  county,  state, 
and  nation  as  Uving  personahties  in  the  child's  heart  is 
largely  a  matter  of  precipitating  existing  sentiment  in  the 
form  of  clear  conception  and  definite  resolve.,  Political 
ideals  easily  become  abstract.  What  is  needed  is  to  teach 
concrete  ideas  of  service,  to  give  the  child  a  notion  of  just 
where  he  fits,  Many  chiLtren  leave  school  with  the  idea 
that  they  would  like  to  die  for  their  country,  and  with  a 
red  readiness  to  do  so,  who  yet  exemplify  their  patriotism 
only  by  trying  to  live  at  its  expense. 

One  thing  we  can  do  is  to  inculcate  the  idea  that  in  the 
city  or  nation,  as  in  every  other  team,  the  first  duty  of  the 
member  is  to  hold  up  his  end.  Support  yourself,  and  your 
family  when  you  have  one,  pull  your  weight,  do  in  the  first 
place  your  daUy  humdrum  woA ;  this  b  a  part  of  your  serv- 
ice to  the  state,  indeed  the  most  essential  part.  Here 
we  come  again  across  the  guild  idea.  Dr.  Kirschensteiner 
of  Munich,  the  distinguished  exponent  of  the  value  of  con- 
tinuation schools,  writes  that  their  best  effect  is  in  teaching 
patriotism;  "Do  it  for  Germany,  do  good  work  in  order 
that  German  goods  m*y  be  the  best  and  that  the  Pkth». 


388  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


land  may  prosper"  is  their  most  important  lesson.  It  is 
this  '  t  of  teaching  that  makes  patriotism  concrete,  pro- 
duces real  citizens,  brings  to  its  full  life  in  the  child  thu 
most  important  form  of  membership. 

Of  course  the  concrete  duties  of  citizenship  in  the  narrower 
sense  should  also  be  taught  in  school,  especially  in  the  higher 
grades  in  connection  with  the  study  of  history  and  of  the 
methods  of  government  and  public  action.  Something  is 
accomplished  by  showing  the  child  just  what  his  civic  duties 
are  going  to  be  so  that  his  patriotic  intention  may  learn 
early  to  close  upon  them  and  not  evaporate  in  noble  senti- 
ment. Royce's  question  "When  were  you  patriotic?" 
is  worth  suggesting. 

But  ii.  developing  political  membership  in  children  the 
appeal  to  the  imagination  is  always  the  important  method. 
Every  means  should  be  taken  of  making  vivid  the  city, 
state,  and  nation  as  living  beings.  Our  children  should 
feel,  Uke  the  citizen  of  Florence,  the  beat  of  "  the  grand  heart 
of  the  commune."  We  should  present  to  them  Miltmi's 
vision  of  the  commonwealth  as  "a  huge  Christian  person- 
ality as  compact  of  virtue  as  a  body,  the  growth  and  stature 
of  an  honest  man." 

To  this  end  we  must  make  much  use  of  qonbols.  Flag 
worship  may  be  overdone,  but  it  is  foui^ed  on  a  true  psy- 
chology. Children  must  know  our  shrines  and  sacred 
places,  our  Old  South,  Old  State  House,  Faneuil  Hall; 
our  Valley  Forge,  Mount  Vernon,  Concord  Bridge ;  if  not 
by  visits,  then  by  descriptions,  colored  prints,  and  photo- 
graphs. 

We  must  preserve  and  dignify  our  monuments,  erect 
our  public  buildings  in  a  spirit  of  reverence  for  the  common- 
wealth for  whose  perfection  we  travail,  however  feebly  and 
imperfectly,  as  the  civic  and  rehgious  associations  of  the 


THE  LARGER  UNITS  OP  MEMBERSHIP  389 

Middle  Ages  labored  at  the  cathedrals  that  have  ennobled 
their  cities  for  all  time.   The  child  should  be  helped  to  carry 
his  city  and  his  country  with  him  in  imagination,  and  these 
should  be  made  capable  of  visualization,  for  this  reason 
The  Swiss  are  the  proverbiaUy  homesick  people  because 
their  country  has  more  feature  than  another.   There  is 
more  of  it  in  the  memory  to  be  missed.   It  was  not  for  noth- 
mg  that  Athens  had  her  Acropolis  and  her  Long  Walls,  with 
Parnassus  behmd  and  the  opalescent  .Egean,  "the  wine- 
colored  sea,"  in  front.  The  Athenian  wherever  he  went 
could  see  his  beloved  city  in  hb  mind's  eye,  and  showed  his 
gratitude  by  adorning  it  as  no  piece  of  the  earth's  surface 
has  been  adorned  before  or  since.   St.  Paul's,  Westminster, 
ttie  Tower,  London  Bridge,  have  done  much  to  create  Lon- 
don and  hold  it  together  m  spite  of  its  bewUdering  political 
confusion  and  enormous  size.    English  authors  who  like 
Dickens  have  known  and  described  their  city  with  familiar 
affection  have  added  greatly  to  its  personality.   The  local 
poKtical  unit  should  for  this  reason  be  of  convenient  visualiz- 
ing size.  The  county  will  never  be  as  weU  governed  as  the 
town  because  it  can  never  be  so  weU  imagined.  A  st«te  or 
nation  is  a  different  case,  because  there  we  frankly  resort  to 
symbolism,  and  because  what  is  lost  in  handiness  of  size 
IS  gained  in  majesty.    We  see  the  nation  as  the  largest 
extension  of  ourself,  the  final  apotheosis  of  the  gang  against 
the  background  of  an  outaule  and  partly  aUen  worW. 

City  and  nation  must  be  embodied,  and  their  kleal  exten- 
sion illustrated,  in  human  personality.  Every  city  of  Greece 
had  Its  figure  of  the  Kor6  or  virgin -her  Parthenon,  or 
vu-gms  temple,  being  Athens'  contribution  to  this  cult  — 
and  Its  divine  protector.  The  temple  of  Poseidon  stand- 
ing alone  amid  the  grass  and  bnunbles  still  telb  whst  the 
atyofPflestummeMrt  to  its  huv  throngs.  Andmyoid 


390  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


town  in  Europe  has  its  Madonna  or  its  patron  saint  —  the 

latter  often  being  its  ancient  bishop  beloved  for  his  local 
patriotism.  We  do  well  to  tell  our  children  the  stories 
of  those  heroes  in  whom  the  country  has  reached  its 
fullest  incarnation,  touched  its  present  high-water  mark 
in  courage,  dignity,  humanity.  America's  greatest  assimi- 
lative power  to-day  is  the  great  heart  of  lincobi.  In  him 
the  poorest  immigrant,  the  smallest  child,  feds  something 
of  what  our  country  longs  to  be. 

And  we  must  make  as  vivid  as  we  can  those  times,  as  in 
the  revolt  of  the  colonies,  the  winning  of  the  West,  the  up- 
rising of  the  North,  m  which  the  Nation  itself  emerges, 
and  walks  the  earth  almost  as  a  visible  personahty. 

We  form  the  city,  state,  and  nation  in  the  child's  mind 
as  we  form  the  school,  as  the  gang  instinctively  learns  to  form 
itself  —  by  symbol,  story,  song,  and  prophecy  —  by  making 
real  its  past  and  future  and  its  living  present. 

This  making  the  political  unit  live  in  the  child's  heart 
is  important  not  purely  that  the  child  may  help  to  make  a 
great  nation,  but  also  that  the  working  within  him  of  a 
great  nation  may  make  the  child.  For,  more  than  all  other 
educational  influences,  it  is  in  truth  the  nation  that  makes 
the  citizen.  His  country  is  the  tree  on  which  he  grows. 
Its  living  demand  upon  him  is  the  most  important  non- 
hereditary  element  in  character.  When  Mutius  Scfievola 
burnt  his  hand  off  in  the  flame,  it  was  Rome  in  him  giving 
her  answer  to  the  fweign  king  who  thought  to  frighten  her. 
Athens  made  the  Athenians.  She  demanded  heroes,  poets, 
sculptors,  men  of  genius;  she  yearned  and  travailed  for 
these,  required  them  to  fulfill  her  purposes,  dreamed  before- 
hand the  things  they  were  to  do.  They  rounded  out  the 
body  which  her  soul  implied    She  was  afire  with  the  beauty 


THE  LARGER  UNITS  OP  MEMBERSHIP  391 

and  wonder  of  the  universe;  and  within  her  four  walls  no 
citian  escaped  the  flame.  Phidias.  Plato.  Sophocles,  are 
voices  of  a  civic  personality  the  most  intense  the  world  has 
ever  seen. 

And  to  ennoble  the  child  the  city,  the  nation,  must  itself 
be  noble.  Its  spirit  m.st  be  such  as,  living  in  his  heart, 
wiB  require  nobility  of  him.  It  is  to  the  ennobling  of  the 
state  m  aU  its  manifesUtions  that  we,  the  citizens  of  to-day. 
should  consecrate  our  lives. 

These  various  memberships  and  the  others  in  home.  ganc. 
school,  that  we  have  previously  spoken  of  are  not  extrw 
in  human  hfe,  but  belong  to  its  very  substance.  They  are 
the  threads  upon  which  human  character  is  strung,  -  the 
brac^,  the  stays,  or  rathw  the  roots  running  out  in  different 
directions  and  keeping  the  individual's  personaUty  in  place 
It  is  by  preparation  for  taking  their  part  in  these  that  we 
can  best  insure  for  our  children  continued  life  and  growth 


J 


CHAPTER  XUn 


GIRLS 

Up  to  the  age  of  loyalty  what  I  have  said  about  the  play 

of  children  applies  to  boys  and  girls  pretty  much  alike. 
During  the  dramatic  age  girls  care  more  for  dolls  and  boys 
more  for  aoldim  — and  this  not  wholly  because  in  our 
treatment  of  each  we  assume  that  such  will  be  their  prefer- 
ence.  Of  giris  during  the  Big  Injun  age  it  may  be  said  that 
they  are  lets  no.  There  is  of  course  great  variety  among  both 
boys  and  girls  in  their  presentation  of  the  characteristics 
of  this  strenuous  period ;  but  on  the  average  the  girls  repre- 
sent a  milder  case. 

The  great  practical  conduaon  of  th<Me  who  have  made 
the  best  study  of  girls  during  the  Big  Injun  age  is  that  it  is 
best  they  should  have  it  thoroughly.  Every  girl  should 
play  with  boys  and  should  be  encouraged  to  be  as  much  of 
a  boy  as  possible.  She  should  learn  to  give  and  take,  to 
accept  defeat  and  hard  knocks  without  crying  or  having 
her  feelings  hurt  or  becoming  tragic  over  it  She  should 
even  carry  the  experience  of  the  Big  Injun  age  so  far  as  to 
acquire  a  rudimentary  sense  of  justice,  a  quality  not  neces- 
sarily detracting  from  the  eternal  feminine.  In  short,  a 
girl  should  be  a  tomboy  during  the  tomboy  age,  and  the 
more  of  a  tomboy  she  is,  the  better.  Prom  eight  to  thirt  en 
is  indeed,  according  to  the  best  authorities,  the  critical  ige 
with  girls,  and  not,  as  is  generally  supposed,  the  period  of 
the  early  teens;  because  it  is  during  the  eariier  period  that 
the  issues  of  the  later  one  are  practically  decided.   If  a 

an 


GIRLS 

iprl  does  not  become  a  good  sport  before  she  is  fourteen. 

^  ^  ^^^^^^  to  premature 

^dyhood.  She  ought,  indeed,  to  secu.'the  best  ^esZ. 

the  latest.  Of  course  we  must,  here  again,  beware  of  ad- 
h^ons  to  a  passing  phase.  It  is  not  a  perpetual  tom^ 
we  are  trying  to  produce,  but  the  enduring  values  that  an 
to  be  acquired  during  that  period. 

diJ^r  ""^^f"  "^^"^  °'  ^  '""rteen  is  inmost 

d  rections  about  equal  to  that  of  boys.  At  the  age  of  twelve 
or  thirteen  they  can  usually  beat  boys  of  thTsame  ^ 

varJs^*  fc^vy  weights,  races  longer  than  a  hundred 
yards,  have  been  classed  by  good  authorities  as  bad  for 
hUle  girls,  basl^t  baU  and  field  hock^  a.  doubtful  BuJ 
with  caution  in  regard  to  these  forms  of  exercise  there  is 
not  much  that  boys  do  that  is  not  good  for  girls  also  at  this 
P«iod.   Espetaally  appropriate  are  the  running  games 
botii  of  tje  chasing  class  like  tag.  hill  diU.  prisoners' baL,' 
and  of  the  more  developed  hunting  and  stalking  variety 
like  I  spy  and  white  men  and  Indians.   It  is  in  the  short 
runs  especially  that  giris  show  their  athletic  superiority 
but  games  are  better  and  sa/er  than  track  athletics.  Base^ 
b«U  »  •  good  game  for  girls.   They  are  said  to  lack  the 
boy  s  tiirowing  mstmct.  but  it  requires  a  professional  to 
know  the  difference;  certainly  some  girls  can  throw  farth« 
than  most  boys.   Climbing  is  good,  and  Dr.  S«gent  has 
pointed  out  that  women  do  at  least  as  well  as  meTin  pro- 
fessional gymnastics;  both  in  truth  are  descended  from  the 
same  femify  tree  and  show  an  instinctive  reminiscence  of  it. 
Girls  certamly  take  more  th«,  boys  do  to  the  skipping  games 
such  as  jump  rope  and  hop  scotch,  which  seem  to  fonii  i 
sort  of  mstmctive  preparatoiy  ooune  for  dandng. 


m  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


Girls  up  to  thirteen  or  fourteen  are  much  like  boys;  but 
then  there  comes  a  parting  of  the  ways.  Just  when  the 
boys  take  their  great  start  toward  becoming  men,  girls  take 
an  equally  definite  turn  toward  womanhood.  The  boy  of 
sixtem  is  in  every  form  of  athletic  ability  vastly  ahead 
of  his  Big  Injun  younger  brother;  he  is  abeady  s  nuui 
while  the  oth«  is  still  a  boy.  In  the  same  way  the  girl  of 
sixteen  is  a  woman  while  her  sister  of  thirteen  is  still  a  child ; 
but  in  athletic  ability  her  sister  is  as  likely  as  not  ahead  of 
her.  People  who  have  to  do  with  girls  of  this  age,  especially 
during  the  years  horn  fourteen  to  sixteen,  often  complun 
that  they  take  no  interest  in  anything  active,  in  remarkable 
contrast  with  their  brothers,  who  at  the  same  period  can 
take  no  serious  interest  in  anything  else.  The  girl's  develop- 
ment, whatever  else  may  be  true  of  it,  is  evidently  not  to 
be,  to  an  extent  at  all  ^mparable  with  that  of  boys,  through 
participation  m  streni  j  athletic  games.  Some  forms  of 
athletics  indeed  are  espedally  injurious  to  her.  It  seems 
to  be  true  that  extreme  competition,  whether  in  basket 
ball  or  other  strenuous  forms  of  athletics,  is  in  this  class. 

Oa  the  other  hand  it  is  t\  mistake  to  suppose  that  a  girl 
of  fourteen  shouhl  sudden  y  give  up  all  athletic  sports  and 
be  relegated  to  a  purdy  stationary  existence  with  no  outlet 
for  emotion,  and  no  means  of  growth  except  of  a  sedentary 
sort.  There  still  survives  in  her  something  of  the  Big  Injun 
spirit  of  competition,  though  in  a  less  extreme  degree  than 
m  her  brotha>,  and  thore  are  numy  ways  in  which  it  can  be 
beneficially  iiuiulged. 

Ball  games  especially  seem  to  agree  with  gu-ls,  if  indeed 
they  did  not  originate  with  them.  Nausikaa,  it  will  be 
remembered,  was  a  ball  player,  and  Atalanta  was  so  ad- 
dicted to  that  form  of  sport  that  she  lost  her  most  famous 
race  throu^  her  instinct  to  follow  the  baU.  Newell  tells 


GIRLS 


8W 


MS  in  his  •■Cu,„c»  and  Songs  oj  Americm  Childim"  Ait 

sucfc  by  WMm  von  der  Vogdweide.  BMeball  itself  is 
given  by  Mm  Austen  in  "  NortI«ttg«  Abb«. "  „  ,  ,„ 'ri^ 
«ereat>„n„fl,erhen,i„e.  It  h^«^aJLm^ 
more  romping,  sort  of  g.„es  tU^i^^J^tTZ 
^ty  of  girls  when  left  to  their  own  ins&ets~wi 
not  qmt.  .t  .t.  most  i„,e„se ;  it,  reineamation  in  the^rfo' 
Ic^  sc,ent,fio  but  liveli.,  beginningT^ 
ea  led  '»,,„a,,h  ball  •  (originally  round«),  iLs^^ 
voley  ball;  basket  ball  (women's  rules),  tL.^lrS 

p^..nrs  ^'"^t^'z^z^':t^- 

h^ed  forms  that  we  have  lost,  in  which  there 
*™»>t  of  song  and  drama -were  „„gi„a||y  the  ™o« 

take  tn  tj,-.    *    "*^"eve  tnat  big  girb  am  women  would 

^t.r.:.d  »u"^"^ "  »*~*«»- 

It  should  be  maaahmd  in  .11  athletic  competition  for 
gMs  over  fourt.«,  that  tho,.gh  it  i.  rtffl  one  of  CZs  Z 
wh  eh  they  get  their  growth,  it  is  not  »  n.^^ 

-dus-ve  orm  as  it  is  with  boys,  that  the  i„s.^^„^ 
petrtion  ,s  less  fierce  m  them  than  in  their  brothers  3 

^  r  WW  I    l!f       u  •  course  of  train- 

ing  on  which  a  boy  of  the  s«ne  age  wouH  grow  fat  Iti, 


806  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


not  exGCM  mere  physical  onrdae  tlwt  produces  this  re- 
mit, —  womoi  tre  said  to  be,  in  this  reqMct,  »t  kut  m 
enduring  m  men  —  the  trouble  with  them  is  that  physical 
competition  is  not  so  nearly  their  sole  instinctive  huiinwi 

in  life,  and  tltat  they  cannot  live  on  it  so  well. 

Big  girb,  over  fourteen,  ought,  all  the  same,  to  Iceep  on 
with  their  running  and  throwbg  games;  and  tb^  will 
keq>  on  if  they  get  a  g(5od  start  during  the  tomboy  age. 
TTiey  will  be  especially  likely  to  do  so  if  such  games  become 
the  fashion  as  they  now  bid  fair  to  do.  But  the  competition 
should  not  be  of  the  very  fiercest  sort.  If  girls  play  inter- 
sdiolastic  games,  they  must  not  be  battel  by  that  hysteria 
on  the  part  of  tlie  graduates  which  boys  are  subjected  to. 
Girls  ought  to  laugh  and  squeal  over  their  games,  not 
play  them  in  tlie  dogged  spirit  characteristic  of  young  men's 
competition. 

Climbing  is  still  good  for  big  girls.  Shinning  up  a  rope, 
indeed,  seems  to  be  induded  in  all  gymnastic  courses  es- 
pecially arranged  for  them.  Other  exercises  favorab^ 
regarded  by  the  experts  include  rowing,  paddling,  coasting, 
skiing  —  which  should  certainly  be  encouraged  if  only  for 
the  joy  of  the  bystanders  in  the  wingless  victory  effect. 
Walking  u  always  spoken  of  as  a  good  exerdse,  as  no  doubt 
it  is ;  and  the  fact  is  important,  as  it  is  in  most  places  almost 
the  only  outdoor  kind  that  girls  can  take  during  a  great 
part  of  the  year.  Of  course  it  is  better  where  there  is  up 
and  down  hill,  some  running  and  climbing  in  it,  and  something 
to  see  that  nourishes  the  soul. 

Swimming  is  always  mentioned  as  excellent  for  gMs. 
Mermaids  are  to  this  day  -"ore  common  than  mermen,  and 
there  are  girls  who  seen,  oorn  to  this  profession,  having 
among  otlier  advantages  an  apparent  imperviousness  to 
ooW.   And  yet  I  always  suspect  that  the  praise  given  to 


GIRLS 


K7 


this  exercise  by  those  who  approwk  the  wU«(  fb». 
Z^Z^lIT"'  that  is  not  .  g.n.e  a„d  in  whieh 

u  ««ch  ftoo.  loss  of  h...  ^ 

™h|r  .v,  Uv.  a»  high-,  vA- fc,  „ 

..e  should  solo  perf^r^  u:  ■0^'^ 
prod^cmg  soloists;  social  da„ci„/,h«M  heZ^^t 
whd«ome  hours.   But  „ithiu  these  limitationrSTa^ 
^  d«c.  too  much    and  the  more  tired  ti  TTwJI 
cYr^  I"  better  will  dancin,  "I™ 

G,r  s  hke  dand^  h«t«  „y  other  L,  of  pC' 
and  the,r  .nstrnct  fa  .t  h„ft.  rj^  ^^'^ 
many  elements  of  expression  and,  when  »  dw^d  «^ 
pve  room  for  originality,  affords  a  wider  av«,u.  TgZ^ 
^  P«rh.ps  any  other  form  of  play  of  either  sex.  Da'clt 

faction  m  the  form  of  gesture,  inma,  rhjthm.  It  has  the 
«^«l^ng  effect  that  comes  from  calling  out  all  the  phyricS 

a- in  i.3  highest  ^Z'ZllZ^^  ^^Zl 
m,  ..,n  gets  f«>m  handling  his 

th.  1^  and  the  most  intimate,  pa,,nt  of  all 

JT^i^LT* TT'^  °'  available.^; 
llT  "^'^  expression,  the  fim  and 

most  exuberant  utt«M.  of  ttejcyolfflfc.  ' 

■  S..  "Th.  H«hhfa,  ^    D««h»"     Utt,  H.  OrtI*. 


308 


PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


The  tcXk  dances  have  already  proved  thwr  superiority 
to  the  so-called  aesthetic  dances  that  appeared  in  this  country 
at  about  the  same  time,  for  tJie  reason  that  they  are  more 
firmly  planted  upon  instinct,  are  more  expressive,  are  in 
short  a  truer  form  of  art.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  we  shall 
adopt  a  few  of  the  best  of  them  until  they  are  played  on  all 
the  hurdy-gurdies  and  danced  in  all  our  streets.  Their  pomt 
of  introduction  into  "sodefy"  will  be  perhaps  as  figures 
in  the  German. 

Parenthetically  it  may  be  said  that,  though  dancing  is 
especially  necessary  for  girls,  it  is  instinctive  in  boys  also, 
and  might  perhaps  be  equally  important  to  them  if  th^  had 
not  so  many  other  means  of  growtli.  As  it  is,  the  especially 
masculine  dances,  the  Highland  fling,  hornpipe,  buck  and 
wing,  attract  boys  and  men,  can  easily  be  cultivated,  and 
ought  to  be  so. 

Dancing  has  the  prosaic  but  most  practical  advantage  of 
being  a  great  economizer  of  space.  It  is  not  only  the  best 
play  for  girls  over  fourteen ;  but  is  a  kind  they  can  actually 
get,  not  only  in  the  country,  but  everywhere.  Dancing  can 
be  carried  on  not  only  in  schools  and  halls  and  playgrounds, 
but  in  the  home.  In  our  country  it  has  moreover  the  in- 
cidental but  not  incon»darable  merit  of  drawing  the  families 
of  our  immigrants  together,  showing  the  children  that  there 
is  something  in  the  Old  World  knowledge  of  their  patents 
tliat  the  New  World  cares  to  know. 

Skating  is  a  form  of  dancing,  and  a  parucularly  beautiful 
form,  both  as  rhythm,  as  visual  poetry,  and  as  a  direct 
bodily  expresw>n  of  emotion.  It  is  praised  by  the  exp»ts 
as  physically  an  especially  good  exercise  for  girls.  It  also 
stands  at  the  ver>'  head  of  present  playground  provision  in 
our  northern  cities  because  of  the  amount  of  fun,  exercise, 
health,  and  human  expresuon  obtained  per  hour  from  a 


GIRLS 


399 


Roto  dtatjng  „  „,  „^  , 

MKi  vid^ble  «»««,  to  children  m  our  cities  and  .  potot 
««)n  fertile  extension  of  Mpl«ltp.v«n«,t 

Every  form  of  artistic  expression  is  good  for  girU.  Minic 
«  perhaps  «,e  most  important,  and  no  girl  shouS^  .U„^ 
to  grew  up  without  a  moderate  proficiency  in  dnging,  0^^ 
p%»g  some  mndcJ  instrument,  if  it  is  o^  the'L^Mion 
or  the  Jew  s-ha,.,  «nle«i  d,,  i.  rfrf,  to        an  effective  sul^ 
ftute  m  the  way  of  drawing  or  p«n,ing.  D«,Z 
htera-y  taste  and  the  habit  of  reading  alou"^^ 
required  of  aU.   There  should  be  much  stoiy-telUng  to  tb! 
»4ool  »d  on  the  ptayground  as  weU  as  in  tte  home  «,d 
ev«y  gul  («id  boy  too,  for  tbrt  matter)  should  r  ,;u^; 
some  home  games,  including  chedm.  ««*'t 

•3  any,  jnd  on  which  more  money  is  annuaUy  spent  thin 
on  an  the  r«t  combined,  is  that  of  drcssm.^^  Eve^ 
girl  shouM  know  how  to  d«.  b«»aingly  ^  ^M  tZ 
oy  mdomgso.   Subordinate  artHHZg  «k1 

e^d^Zml'  '""r"'?"  •  P"™'  o'  expressionTd 
BMBopate  fcom  tomgn  fashion-makers  and  the  monstresi. 
ties  they  now  impose  upon  us.  "«™«- 

Particularly  important  to  girb  i,  ft,  ^  , 

them  especi^ly  3hould  be  eultiv.t«l  the  iSTrf^ 
d..™d«  and  little  dramas,  giving  dramatic  iL.^ 

-^^.Xr  to:±j''^  T 
~  upon  irgtrXto  tb^-^ets 

show^g^off  yourself.  Above  aU,  the  cxcdtottS^ 
should  be  avoKied;  it  is  .  «^  fc,  bri.«iS«  tST*^ 


400  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


all  concmied  to  the  breaking  point  and  destroying  all  natural 
joy  of  expression.  Vfhea  the  boys  and  gals  get  far  enough 
along  to  really  care  about  some  dramatist,  when  they  have 
an  enthusiasm  for  Shakespeare,  then  indeed  it  will  be  safe 
to  let  them  see  what  they  can  do  with  him  to  bring  conviction 
to  their  friends  and  fellow  pupils. 

In  order  that  girls  may  get  the  benefit  of  thratricab  it 
is  essential  to  catch  them  before  the  self-consdous  age; 
somewhere  from  ele.en  to  thirteen  is  perhaps  the  crucial 
period ;  certainly  after  fourteen  it  will  be  too  late. 

How  far  does  the  team  sense  exist  m  girb?  Hitherto  in 
this  discussion  of  girb  of  the  age  of  loyalty  this  main  question 
has  been  left  out.  It  is  a  quv,dtion  on  which  we  have  not 
yet  data  for  a  very  satisfactory  answer.  Girls  show  as 
much  of  the  belonging  instinct  as  boys  in  the  ring  games  of 
the  dramatic  age.  They  sUow  much  the  same  gregarious 
tendency  —  with  about  an  equal  capacity  or  incapacity  to 
combine  —  as  boys  do  during  the  Big  Injun  age,  and  acquire 
during  that  period  something  of  the  same  rough  training 
in  the  elements  of  just  competition.  Girls  have  certainly 
as  much  loyalty  to  the  home  as  boys  have,  and  it  is  cus- 
tomarily put  to  much  severer  tests.  They  are  as  loyal  in 
friendship  and  possess  as  great  a  capacity  for  it 

But  when  we  come  to  the  team  proper,  or  to  the  gang  — 
to  the  pack  of  young  creatures  running  instinctively  to- 
gether or  combining  in  the  achievement  of  a  common  enter- 
prise—  the  matter  is  more  doubtful.  Diana  and  her 
nymi^s  were  certainly  a  team,  even  a  gang.  Hie  Amason.s 
are  another  example ;  but  these  latter,  as  thdr  name  implies, 
were  hardly  feminine  and  should  perhaps  be  cited  on  the 
other  side.  Upon  the  whole  it  seems  certain  that  the  team 
sense  in  gu-ls  is  not  so  strong  as  it  is  in  boys,  while,  on  the 


GIRLS 


401 


other  hand,  I  am  sure  that  it  exists,  because  I  have  known 
instances  of  it. 

^  And  as  a  practical  matter  the  existence  of  the  team  sense 
is  the  important  thing.   If  girb  have  this  sense  it  certainly 
ought  to  be  developed.   Whether  they  vote  or  not,  women 
are  citizens  and  are  certain  to  exert  a  great  influence  upon 
government.   And  the  better  the  civic  sense  is  developed 
in  them,  the  better  citizens  they  will  be,  and  the  better  in- 
fluence they  wiU  exert.  Women  have  lacked  skiU  in  fulfilling 
the  wider  and  less  personal  relations.  Their  loyalty  is  apt  to 
be  narrow,  rigid,  too  much  attached  to  particular  individuals 
and  particular  forms.   It  needs  training  in  the  art  of  holding 
to  the  ideal  image  of  a  social  body  whUe  remaining  open- 
minded  as  to  the  means  of  realizing  it,  in  seeing  the  cause  as 
something  greater  than  the  leader,  the  essence  as  more  cndur- 
mg  than  the  form.    To  see  your  personal  choice  for  captain 
put  aside  and  yet  play  the  game  with  your  whole  heart,  to 
find  merit  even  in  your  opponent,  and  especially  in  your  rival 
for  influence  within  your  own  team,  to  learn  that  there  are 
other  heroes  and  other  causes  besides  your  own,  are  lessons 
that  would  not  be  thrown  away  upon  the  avoage  woman, 
and  that  can  be  learned  nowhere  so  thoroughly  as  in  team 
play  during  the  team  play  age. 

And  then  the  development  of  the  power  to  belong  is  im- 
portant not  for  ulterior  reasons  alone.  Like  all  the  powers 
developed  under  the  direction  of  the  play  instincts,  its  value 
IS  direct  and  ultimate.  The  tempered  loyalty  of  the  true 
member,  the  trained  abUity  to  conceive  and  promote  a 
common  personality,  —  whether  in  the  home,  in  the  city 
or  stote,  or  otherwise.  — b  an  essential  faculty  of  human 
nature. 

Here  again  the  tomboy  theory  is  important,  for  tomboy- 

dom  hists  an  appredaWe  distance  into  the  team  age.  Tns 
2d 


PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


age,  which  begins  in  boys  at  about  eleven,  should  by  analogy 
With  other  signs  of  growth  show  itself  in  girls  a  little  earlier. 
Young-ladyhood  on  the  other  hand  starts  at  about  fourteen. 
So  there  are  nearly  three  years  for  good  hard  team  play 
before  this  latter  stage  begins.  To  learn  during  these 
precious  years  to  be  a  good  team  mate  and  a  good  comrade 
is  for  any  girl  an  educational  experience  that  wiU  bear  fruit 
through  her  whole  life  and  in  more  than  one  relation.  It  b 
what  we  have  had  of  this  hard  team  play  of  boys  and  giris 
together  that  more  than  anything  else  has  given  us  the 
Am«ican  girl,  —  the  best  of  our  productions  thus  far. 


CHAPTER  XUV 


B0T8  AND  GIBL8 


The  age  of  loyalty,  more  eq)edaUy  the  second  part  of  it, 
from  about  fourteen  on.  is  the  age  of  differentiatioii,  includ- 
mg  the  marked  differentiation  of  the  sexes.  The  interest 
of  each  sex  the  other  also  becomes  accentuated  at  this 
tune,  ~m  boys  perhaps  a  little  later,  near  the  end  of  the 
gang  period,  say  at  about  sixteen. 

Not  but  what  there  have  been  symptoms  in  both  cases 
very  much  earlier.   It  is  said  -  though  I  know  of  no  reliable 
statistics  on  the  subject -that  most  boj^  fall  violently  in 
^e  -  usuaUy  with  a  lady  of  twenty-five  or  thereabouts  - 
before  they  are  ten  years  old,  and  break  their  hearts  over 
imagined  slights  froir  the  unconscious  object  of  their  de- 
votion.  And  most  of  them,  at  any  given  p»iod  of  thdr 
career,  know  some  little  girl  whom  they  think  particularly 
^1'  ^'^!°°»^^b;««er  girl  whom  they  worship  at  a  distance. 
Tlie  sentimental  history  of  little  girls  is,  I  believe,  somewhat 
the  same. 

In  boys  of  the  gang  age  there  is,  to  be  sure,  a  certain  sex 

antagonism  -  at  least  there  is  a  tendency  in  the  g««  itself 
to  tea^  the  girls  and  affect  to  despise  them.   This  tendency 

r^^J^  "^y^"^  attraction,  or  the  future' 

Panedicks  mstmctive  defense  against  it,  such  as  furnishes 
the  theme  of  so  many  romances  from  Beauty  and  the  Beast 
down.  It  IS  more  marked  in  the  gang  as  a  whole  than  in 
its  several  members,  who  may  in  their  private  cap«:ity  be 

408 


404  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

very  soft  each  upon  some  particular  damsel,  though  they 
would  rather  die  than  own  it.  Still  the  tendency  doej  ex  3t. 
It  is  in  the  gang  that  the  man's  man  is  produced,  with  his 
condescending  attitude  toward  womankind,  from  which 
some  men,  and  even  all  the  men  of  some  ncea,  never  wholly 
recover. 

But  when  the  new  age  comes,  at  sixteen  or  thereabouts, 
all  trace  of  sex  antagonism  vanishes,  for  the  time  at  least. 
This  is  the  period  when  the  youth  becomes  suddenly  anxious 
about  his  dothes,  shines  at  both  ends,  in  boots  and  neckties, 
brushes  his  hair  without  being  toW,  and  even  keeps  his 
hands  clean.  Up  to  this  time  there  was  no  use  speaking  to 
him  about  his  nails;  now  there  is  no  necessity. 

The  girls,  on  their  side,  undergo  much  the  same  trans- 
formation, though  the  symptoms  are  somewhat  different; 
and  if  pains  are  not  taken  to  give  them  other  resources, 
their  interest,  if  not  stronger,  is  apt  to  be  more  absorbing. 

Hence  there  arises  from  both  sides  the  desire  of  boys 
and  girls  to  play  together;  and  although  there  is  not,  as 
in  the  case  of  the  other  play  instincts,  any  need  of  encourag- 
ing this  tendency,  there  is  great  need  of  its  guidance,  and 
this  not  merely  for  the  prevention  of  harm  but  stiU  more 
for  the  securing  of  the  great  good  that  ought  to  come  from  it. 
Our  problem  is  how  to  keep  this  great  force  of  nature,  the 
mutual  attraction  of  the  sexes,  to  its  true  task  of  producing 
strength  and  beauty. 

The  first  thmg  for  us  to  remember  is  that  this  mutual 
attraction  is  not  one  but  many  things.  Its  issue  u  aU  the 
way  from  the  worst  to  the  best  we  know.  If  it  has  produced 
much  of  the  evil  in  the  world,  -  if  it  is  so  high  an  explosive 
that  the  spiritual  doctors  in  many  ages  have  forbidden  it 
to  the  holy  and  to  the  carefully  nurtured  young,  — it  is 
also  the  source  of  the  best  things  in  life.  True  love  is  the 


BOYS  AND  GIRLS  405 

dearrat  iK^session  of  the  race.  Its  presence  would  redeem 
•  world  of  ugliness.  Romance  is  of  the  stuff  that  makes 
^  worth  hvmg- partakes  of  the  ultimate,  of  what  the 
rest  IS  for. 

Sex  attraction  is  never  simple.  It  is  not  merely  all  thimrs 
to  all  men.  it  is  apt  to  be  a  great  many  things  to  each  man. 
whenever  it  happens  t»  him. 

In  the  first  place  no  major  instinct  ever  acts  alone.  Hu- 
man nature  is  a  sounding  boaitl.  which  when  one  note  is 
struck  gives  forth  sj-mpathetic  vibrations,  discords,  har- 
monies overtones.   This  note  especially  is  so  deep  in  us 
that  there  is  very  little  in  our  nature  that  its  awakening 
may  not  touch.   The  instinct  of  the  chase  is  aroused  in 
pursuit  of  the  flying  nymph.  The  fighting  instinct,  enlisted 
m  supplanting  nv«b,  may  be  stronger  than  the  original 
motive  and  sometimes  survives  it.   Where  Venus  is  present 
Mars  IS  not  often  far  away.   George  Eliot  says  there  is 
always  something  maternal  even  in  a  girlish  love.  Again 
at  the  heart  of  tme  love  there  is  a  David  and  Jonathan 
relation  of  P^re  MeadsUp  -  camaraderie  -  a  marriage  of 
the  qualities  held  in  common,  supplementing  that  of  opposing 
attributes  -  a  relation  illuminated  by  the  hetairai  of  Ai^m, 
m  whom  It  seems  to  have  been  specialized,  and  who,  in  this 
essentuU  respect,  seem  to  have  been  more  wives  than  the 
wives  of  that  emphaticaUy  man-ruled  city.    There  is  further 
in  the  social  intercourse  of  boys  and  girls  a  large  element 
of  pure  gregariousness.   A  crowd  of  them  at  a  ball  game 
IS  not  very  different  from  one  made  up  of  the  boy  uX. 

c^^^  V  '"^^  '''''''  -n- 

^T^J^"^  ^  ""^'y  susceptible,  and 

always  brings  other  emotions  in  its  train. 

Then  in  both  boy  and  girl,  especially  m  the  girl,  the 
awakening  of  this  feeUng  is  so  associated  with  tlHhole 


406  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


awdmiiiig  of  life  thtt  it  b  hud  to  say  where  the  desire  to 
Kve  leaves  off  and  that  for  love  begins.  To  get  into  the 

game,  to  drink  deep  of  the  cup,  to  spend  and  be  spent,  to 
have  lived  and  loved,  to  know  the  joy  and  beauty  of  life, 
its  heights  and  depths  in  some  such  formless  way  to  every 
young  creature  cfunes  the  great  vital  impulse. 

Girls  coming  out  m  society  are  wdQ  named  buds.  It  b 
the  budding  power  of  Mother  Nature  that  is  in  them.  It  is 
the  universal  power  of  life  and  growth,  the  strongest  power 
there  is,  that  they  are  charged  with.  How  far  this  force  is 
ctnnmitted  to  one  f<Mrm  of  discharge  or  another  is  different 
in  evoy  case,  «id  in  every  case  is  difficult  to  know ;  but  that 
the  form  varies  much  according  to  suggestion  and  oppor^ 
tunity  is  unquestionable,  vad  constitutes  our  great  respon- 
sibility. 

Besides  being  attended  by  other  unpulses,  the  love  instinct 
itsdf  is  not  a  simple  one.  Romantic  love  is  something 
quite  different  from  mere  desire,  and  has  as  much  influence 
in  checking  as  in  producing  it.  Romeo's  love  for  Juliet 
kills  his  feeling  for  Rosaline,  not  merely  as  having  a  differmt 
object,  but  as  being  in  its  essence  an  opposing  force. 

Let  me  not  to  the  marriage  of  true  minda 

Admit  impediments.   Love  is  not  love 

Which  alters  when  it  alteration  finds, 

Or  bends  with  the  remover  to  remove : 

O,  no  I  it  is  an  evtribstd  marie 

That  looks  on  tempests  and  is  never  shaken; 

It  b  the  star  to  every  wandering  bark. 

Whose  wOTth's  miknown,  althou^  his  hd^t  be  taken. 

Love's  not  Time's  fool,  though  rosy  lips  and  f^fifiri^ 

Within  his  bending  sidde's  compass  come ; 

Love  alters  not  vith  his  br^f  hours  and  weeks, 

But  bears  it  out  evtn  to  the  edge  of  doom. 
If  this  be  error  and  upon  me  prov'd, 
I  never  writ,  nor  no  man  ever  lov'd. 


BOYS  AND  aiRLS  407 

m  torth  is  that  in  this  matter  of  the  mating  of  human 
bemgs.  even  m  its  smip|«t  terms,  we  encounter  a  lar 
emofonal  phenomeiHa  thw  that  of  sex  done.  There^ 
other  motives  present  in  the  very  passion  itself  i^ZZ 

elements  are  fused,  act  all  as  one.  ««wwi« 
„  ^orty  thousand  brothcn 

<J«dd  not,  with  dl  their  quMthy  of  W 
Make  up  my  turn. 

Jt!^'  f "        «'  '-a»adv  differ. 

'  in'o  the  world. 

.         ?'?^',"»<"  element  in  l>u«uui  love  !», 

»hd  b^,„g,c.,  found  «...  tori^nci^..^'^;^ 

Til  T  fT""™"-  »'  '"'•"cy.  with  its  oo«,C 

n^^.T^  5*"™  competit™,, 
toined  by  a  monogamo,,,  pdr  wl»  f«d,  drft«,  «rf  drf«rf 
^lr"f  dmng  their  period  of  l,elple»„;,.  B«  to 
™.te  tlie  home,  to  build  the  nest  and  »U3t«n  the  loyalty 
he  mj.  through  the  long  infaney  of  the  offspring, 

Z  ?uZ3  *?  than'thaf  wh,^ 

had  suiBced  for  less  pem»iw,t  reUtioiM.  TUs  great 
phenomenon  of  infancy,  nature's  latest  lAJogkal  inveS 

of  the  DoWer  elements  of  human  love.  The  lover  is  bioloi! 
.oaUy  sp«JdBg.  the  deddve  element  in  human  ZIT^ 

reWon'r^"",?^  i-  W  to  devdop  th.3?  thi, 
relation  among  the  vast  possibilities  thM  it  contains. 

Ihe  solution  is  partly  quantitative.  There  cannot  be 
to.  much  true  love  in  the  world,  but  there  i.  «^Ta^ 


408  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


as  too  much  love-making;  it  is  not  properly  a  routine 
occiqpsdfm,  and  if  too  steadily  pursued  will  generate  more 
emoCkm  that  can  be  safely  handled. 
In  part  the  way  to  escape  this  danger  ii,  as  we  all  know; 

by  creating  a  diversion,  providing  other  occupations  and 
pursuits.  This  motive  is  largely  behind  the  modern  belief 
in  athletics.  It  created  the  Muscular  Christianity  of  Thomas 
Hue^es'  day,  from  whbh  we  still  benefit,  and  is  partly 
embodied  in  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  It  is  also  kugdy  responsible 
for  school  extension,  for  boys'  and  girls'  clubs,  social  centers, 
and  all  sorts  of  neighborhood  and  recreational  development. 

Athletics  for  girls  have  not  the  same  instinctive  basis  as 
in  the  case  of  boys,  and  can  never  take  anything  like  the 
same  place.  Hard  rompbg  games  may  nevertheless  greatly 
benefit  girls  in  the  matter  of  emotional  stability,  as  in  every 
other  way.  The  tomboy  survives  in  the  level  head  and 
sense  of  proportion  of  the  later  period. 

From  this  quantitative  point  of  view,  the  question  is  one 
of  maintaining  due  proportion.  Everybody  is  familiar  with 
Leigh  Hunt's  advice  to  young  ladies  that  they  shoiUd  keep  a 
debit  and  credit  account  —  balancing  so  many  hours  crying 
over  a  novel  by  a  proportionate  time  given  to  sweeping  the 
fioor  or  other  less  harrowing  pursuits  —  and  the  advice  is 
good. 

But  there  are  more  intunate  ways  of  dealing  with  the 

problem.  A  purely  quantitative  treatment  will  not  meet 
the  case.  The  emotional  life  of  a  girl  of  sixteen  cannot  find 
adequate  expression  in  the  romping  of  a  very  super-tomboy. 
It  must  have  a  num  relevant  outlet.  Besides,  what  we 
munly  want  to  do  is  not  to  sidetrack  emotion  but  to  pre- 
serve and  utilize  it.  We  want  not  Amazons,  nor  even  a 
succession  of  Dianas  and  attendant  nymphs,  but  the  devebp- 
ment  of  all  that  nature  gives.  The  lamentable  thing  ii 


BOYS  AND  GIRLS  409 

^H«r1;^!]^?*''^''^"'*»««°«*t^»tfails.  Even 
our  dance  hdb  rtwd,  upon  the  whole,  for  romance  -  the 
incorrigible  romance  of  the  human  The  grZer  e^ 

Tiir  r    'r*  *°  ^^"^  ^^'^^  they  it 

the  lostchance  for  a  finer  relation,  a  deeper  poetry 

prescription  in  the  case  of  boys  is  the  direct  en- 
t^TT^?  Ol  wrnwK*.   Every  boy,  before  he  becoiJ^ 
00  wise  to  take  them  seriously,  should  read  Scott3 

oauaas,  are  good  at  any  age. 

Thaw's  not  a  bonnie  flower  that  mbn 
By  feuntab,  shaw.  or  green, 
There's  not  a  bonnie  bird  that  ainp 
But  minds  me  o'  ay  Jean. 

life^r^T"^  ^         <rf  Virtue  in  his  own 

hM>ut  he  could  state  the  case  in  a  way  to  make  the  bbS 
pi«e  of  m«e  sensuousness  abhorrent.  We  want  romance 
because  we  are  n^e  that  way.  and  beauty  is  its  owT^!^ 
for  being;  but  Pegasus,  in  this  c«e,        pull  a 

gl^e  Vher    '^^'k  "  ^  ^  ^Ti^ 

game^  There  is  no  better  police  power  than  romantic  love 

t  TT  "^''^  *  investment.  NoS^ 
ing  wUl  make  a  lower  satisfaction  look  more  flat  and  Uwdn^ 
than  a  remembered  boyish  ideal  ^ 
With  girls,  I  am  credibly  infomed,  the  case  is  different. 
They  have  as  a  rule  too  much  rather  than  too  little 
mance.  a^d  can  be  trusted  ^> ave  enough  of  it. 

and7thi!?r  ^*  ^  ^  remarkable  fact, 

and  I  thmk  a  notable  confirmation  of  my  theorv  that  lovl 
malung  is  thing,,  that  we  c«i  Jely  Xy  w  th  t^^ 
CtZ^'  -^^ost  unlimited  extent  as  p^eLLi  b  g^' 
literature.  Of  the  miMmns  of  novels  read  every  year  fcounT 
m  each  one  each  time)  the  effect  of  those  wS  deL  ^Sl" 


410  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


the  matter  b  a  r^Jit  spirit  b  benefldal.  And  good  Ihm 

ture,  especially  in  tlu  form  of  noveb,  m  which  it  b  imw 
likely  to  be  r-onsumed,  is  of  great  importance  in  our  problem 
After  all,  the  chief  intercourse  of  human  beings  is  in  the  forn 
of  talk,  and  the  best  pi  ft  to  any  set  of  young  people  is  some 
thing  worth  whik  to  talk  about :  the  hcavieit  indictmari 
of  wv  ii  still,  as  Madaim^  De  Stail  complained,  ^t  h 
spoils  conversation.  One  iustimtively  sympathizes  wkl 
the  man  who  propc  nl  hc-.m  ^,-  he  could  not  think  of  r  iy. 
thing  else  to  say;  and  aiwr  they  '  ave  said  "Hello,  rx 
dianged  a  few  inquiries  i^out  the  latest  dance  or  ball  g<.me 
and  executad  the  thai  prevailing  jet*,  wlwt  —  under  th 
yeWffw  light  of  our  present  written  dispensatioB  —  is  thert 
left  for  boys  and  girls  to  say  ?  'ili-  idle  tongue  -  tli<  ig? 
idle,  never  still  —  is  a  more  das  rous  memW'  thai  th« 
idk  hand.  And  what  worthy  occupation  can  it  and  amonj 
the  prevailmg  interests  oS  our  young  isics  at  tlw  praosl 
tima?  I  imt  novd  reading  high  as  a  boMicHd  iHPnrt  in  iM 
matter. 

The  pursuit  which,  above  all  ot!  trt.  is  of  s})ecific  valm 
as  directly  satisfying  the  need  of  emotional  «.  ■.pressioji  is 
the  cuhivatwn  of  the  different  foms  of  art:  literature, 
painting,  music,  dandng,  theatrkndk  Some  peofde  tlmA 
that  all  art  is  sexual,  and  certainly  ail  the  arts  afford  a  read; 
chaiii;el  for  this  emotion.  Many  a  masterpiece  hat-  be«?ii 
wrought  out  in  the  heat  of  a  great  passion.  Singing,  poetry, 
and  other  tonaa  of  music,  are  love's  native  tongue.  Every 
bud  has  a  love  song,  and  every  one  m  love,  nr  at  the  specaal 
ponod  of  love,  has  a  need  to  sing,  and  mmt  suffer  almort 
physical  pain,  lacking  that  form  of  utterance.  The  visuai 
arts  also  are  a  cryptogram  of  the  <  rnoti  ns,  affording  s| 
satisfaction  as  real  as  it  is  inexplicable.  .\  ting  ■  another 
natural  channel.  We  most  ci^vate  in  ok;  Ik).      id  girls 


BOYS  AND  O  RL» 


411 


every  fori  .f  art  fo,  whkh  we  fed  mtmdiy.  and  muit 
cease  frmu  .tiil.nK.    x,,,^  i  .  ,  natural  to  a  young  creature 

tl'TnhTl^l"^""."^  '"'^       '"^^  *o  through 

the  ,nhib,tK«s  «f  a  .    .    m.cal  civilization.    We  muSt 

restore  this  natural  voice     if  in  cultivated  form,  so  much 

the  better,  I  at  in  some  fonr  at     events.   The  mawtonodi 

Chan,      luc  Spanls!  neasant  n.    ev       e  frank,  unque.. 

tumjn^^be l  o.  o,  th,  .  ,ung  itaiiar  i.  better  th«i  oTarti- 


3«t  though  r  urge  it*  use;  .  h  i 
with  a  troubles^  je  situaiimr  d.     <  ! 


Apollo 

le  II 


utilif  arian  sj  Ti 
be  wiiMng  t 
hand  fa  ^nsei.     Ui  ijem 
must  U  bved      its  o 

out  of  ii. 


'Iping  us  to  deal 
cuk'  ate  art  in  a 
JO  hi   'avor,  may 

•olicc  auty,  an    to  lend  a 
rightly  invoked.  Beauty 
siake,  not  for  what  we  can  mairfl^ 


to 


-  must  n  ,t  ,n  ,H    forget  that  art  may  be  a  stimuhui- 

ma    exc,t.     .retha     t  satisfies.   Just  what  determine.' 

«i«eside^theoi       t  t    account  ~  we  must  presently 


Hut  w      of     .   ^cking  emotion,  or  of  working  it  into 
form      be.      toward  which  it  tends,  do  not  make  a 

vjur   me.  led  that  boys  and  girls  shouM  play  together, 
no    ^  of  play  education  is  satisfactory  in  which 
^tahle  provision  for  this  purpose 

th^  iTi.      '        r  "^^^  conditions 

t^make  the  necu  of  such  provision  especiaUy  acute.  First, 

T^'  those  m,der 

t  enty  years  old~a  sep««te  dviliaation,  with  its  own 


412  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


jaws,  customs,  and  public  opinion,  made  up  wholly  of  the 
immature.  This  condition  is  due  partly  to  immigration. 
Children  of  immigrants,  becoming  wage  earners  at  the  age 
of  fourteen  —  picking  up  our  language  and  some  of  our 
customs,  neither  of  which  their  parents  understand  —  often 
become  virtually  the  head  of  the  family,  learn  to  despise 
their  father  and  mother  on  account  of  their  helplessness  and 
their  old-fashioned  ways,  and  get  pretty  thoroughly  out  of 
their  control.  Another  cause  is  in  the  false  individualism 
which  sees  the  child  not  as  a  member  of  the  family  unit, 
but  as  an  independent  social  entity. 

There  is  also  the  real  need  to  fly  the  nest  that  comc-s  at 
about  the  age  we  are  considering.  Girb  especially,  in  homes 
in  which  the  parents  have  not  abdicated,  are  usually  given 
too  little  freedom,  —  a  condition  not  improved  by  the  fact 
that  others  have  far  too  much,  —  and  for  these  especially 
th»e  is  a  moral  need  of  escaping  from  their  mothers'  apron 
strings.  And  no  freedom,  conferred  at  home,  can  be  quite 
enough.  You  cannot  get  the  full  experience  of  swimming 
even  on  a  perfectly  slack  line. 

The  place  for  this  emancipation,  however,  is  not  in  the 
play  of  boys  and  girls  together.  There  is  room  enough  for 
it  in  what  they  do  separately,  in  the  school  and  on  the  play- 
ground, both  individuaUy  and  in  team  play.  Our  exclusive 
boy  and  girl  society  is  neither  normal  nor  necessary,  and  we 
should  not  submit  to  it.   Older  people,  in  this  country 
especially,  are  much  too  shy  in  approaching  those  august 
social  circles  in  which  their  children  move.   We  must  learn 
to  be  less  bashful,  to  have  our  own  dances  and  invite  our 
children  to  them,  and  to  msist  upon  attendmg  theiia.  There 
are^some  purely  social  advantages  m  such  an  innovation. 
In  fact  true  society,  in  the  more  specially  festive  sense,  will 
never  come  into  being  until  the  exbting  stratification  is 


BOYS  AND  QIHLS  413 

taOw.  though.  Sane  o»  the  most  eiyoyable  parties  I 
P^sonMy  ever  .tt«Hl«l  »«.  t  .  hoj  where  tCld 
the  courage  of  their  convictions  upon  this  subject,  «rf 
the  ages  usuaUy  ranged  from  about  eight  to  ^ 

J^^ST  P""''™       °»»  special 

««bon  „  m  the  ch.»gu,g  status  of  women,  f™m  one  based 
on  the  fam.  y  alone  to  one  deriv«l  Urgely  from  a  direct 
mdw.du^  re  ation  to  the  mdustrij  «rf  JcdTmL^ 

aeM  yet,  and  wiU  not  die  so  long  as  there  is  anythinir  of 
human  nature  left  in         We  must  continue  to  aSTalw 

^'zi  "Tr'  --^'^^ 

famUy,  and  for  that  purpose  must  draw  on  the  wne  force 
^  kept  puree,  family  life.   We  must  mobil 
"■^"s-turn  oose  upon  society  as  a  whole  that  surplus 
tCTtr^  «».  is  left  over  through  its  le^ed 

In  some  ways  we  already  suffidentiy  recogni«  the  im- 
poTtacerfthB  problem  of  the  play  of  bo^^^girW 
What  .  technically  known  as  "society'?^ 
to  1^       -"^"y.  to  be  founded  on  nothing  else,  and 

baUs,  M  a  perfect  hecatomb  to  Voiu.  «xl  Hy  men  acting 
w  partnersbp.  But  there  are  other  thing,  Lt  SZ 
be  done,  and  some  things  which  society  permits  that  ne«l 

wal^  thf  ?  ^'"'^  ^^'^  ^  in  other 

foril  rr^-  ^^y^'^l'^t^^en  fourteen  •ndrixteen 
forj^Is.  and  between  sixteen  and  eighteen  for  boy^^TS 
mortmucal  m  this  relation,  anu  they  precede  the  Z 
of  rteMy  party  going.   During  these  years,  .a  weUM«»u! 


414  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


quently,  much  of  their  music,  especially  singing,  and  much  of 
their  theatricals,  can  profitably  be  carried  on  together. 

And  boys  and  giris  ought  to  play  games  together  during 
this  period.  The  equal  athletic  comradeship  of  the  Big 
Injun  age  cannot  indeed  survive.   The  girl  falls  too  rapidly 
behind  to  admit  of  the  continuance  of  exactly  that  relation, 
while  the  boy  now  cares  most  for  such  games  as  football, 
in  whidi  she  cannot  possibly  compete.   Still  there  remain 
golf,  tennis,  even  baseball,  in  whidi  some  giris  can  beat  most 
boys,  while  with  equal  training  many  girls  could  come  near 
enough  in  skill  to  the  average  boy  to  make  it  interesting. 
And  there  are  plenty  of  games  of  the  second  rank  in  which 
equal  prowess  is  not  important.   I  have  known  the  captain 
of  a  college  football  team  to  be  thoroughly  interested  in 
games  of  prisoners'  base,  in  which  girls  took  part,  simply 
as  games,  and  to  strive  most  strenuously  to  win;  and  I 
have  a  similar  reminiscence  of  "robbers  and  policemen" 
and  of  "new  I  spy."   In  such  games  as  these,  in  which 
numbm  are  not  fixed,  every  additional  player  helps  in  pro- 
portion to  his  ability.   In  those  I  have  spoken  of  there  were, 
bc3ides  the  big  girls,  children  down  to  the  age  of  eight  or 
ten,  by  no  means  to  be  despised  in  such  departments  of  the 
game  as  guarding  prisoners  or  making  runs.   And  such 
mixing  of  ages  as  well  as  sexes  is  most  desirable. 

The  minor  games  are  also  available  in  this  connection, 
like  three  deep  and  like  "the  handkerchief  game"  — in 
which  you  stand  in  a  ring  and  throw  a  handkerchief  from 
one  to  another,  while  a  player  in  the  middle  tries  to  catch  it 
—  which  boys  and  girls  will  play  together  almost  endlessly. 
Finally  there  are  the  hundred  or  more  semi-dramatic  games 
played  by  the  children  of  this  country  fifty  years  ago,  many 
of  which  still  survive,  and  the  best  of  which  — being  in 
their  origin  games  of  society  and  of  the  more  cultivated 


BOYS  AND  GIRLS  415 

part  of  society  at  that -might  weU.  as  suggested  in  the 
last  chapter,  be  restored  to  thdr  original  use 
Grown  people  -  the  young  married  people  and  the  manied 

Z  "r  "":^P^«P'«  ^ho  are  not  so  young  -  can  do  much 
in  thw  n,«ded  rejuvenation  of  their  juniors.   Indeed  they 

solemn  m  thar  social  observances,  and  far  too  much  afraid 
of  departing  by  a  single  inch  from  the  straight  andnarrow 
way  laid  down  in  the  fashions  of  their  own  immediate  circle, 

l^f    '""^  'T'^u"*  We  ancients 

sh^  have  to  start  the  play  ourselves  and  show  them  how 

But  whatever  may  be  done  in  the  way  of  singing  and  act- 

mg  and  games  the  great  pky  of  boys  and  giris  together  is 

dancing,  and  always  will  be,  so  long  as  that  formT^use! 
ment  IS  permitted.  And  dancing  will  always  be  a  critical 
V  f  °^  recreation  that  must  be  carefuUy 
guarded,  tha^or  the  sake  both  of  safety  and  of  suc^Sul 
art.  requires  favorable  conditions.  I  ^  especially  of 
dances  m  which  the  boy  holds  his  partner.  HanT^is  a 
wise  old  rule.  Physical  contact  marks  a  danger  line;  and 
T  «°      to  justify 

A  weU^tabhshed  convention  may,  hoiwjver,  do  much  to 
lessen  such  danger.  PersonaUy  I  believe  that  the  wiUti 
properly  danced,  has  been  not  only  safe  but  in  most  in^ 
rtances  a  means  of  safety,  as  providing  a  normal  and  artistic 
satisfaction.  On  the  other  hand  no  convention  wiHv^ 
^ec.t.vely  guaH.  or  justify,  some  of  the  methods  of  our 
modern  dancing,  much  of  which  deserves  the  <feath  penalty 
If  It  were  on       sheer  uglimw.  ^ 

J?!S  1^        all  dancing  another  perilous  element,  and 
of  more  general  mterest  because  of  its  ahnost  universal 


*1«  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

presenct-  in  all  the  forms  of  art  — namely,  the  element  of 
rhythm,  already  spoken  of  in  earlier  chapters.  This  ele- 
ment is  just  now  especially  important  because  of  the  wave 
of  rhythm  that  u  passing  ov«  our  countiy  at  the  present 
time.  Dandng  has  become  a  national  obsession,  amoimt- 
ing  almost  to  a  mania.  Folk  dancing,  social  dandng, 
aesthetic  and  dramatic  dandng,  dandng  in  imitation  of 
the  less  graceful  of  the  lower  animab,  dandng  by  old  and 
young,  by  rich  and  poor,  by  the  wise  and  the  fooUsh  —  danc- 
mg  uy  aU  kinds  of  persons  and  in  every  variety  of  form  —  is 
incessant  in  the  dance  hall,  on  the  stage,  and  in  the  street. 
It  has  mvaded  the  very  ballroom  and  captured  professional 
•society"  iteelf.  The  Bridge  of  Avignon,  celebrated  in 
song,  is  nothing  to  America  at  the  present  time. 

The  rhythmic  madness  b  not  confined  to  dandng  proper 
—  or  improper.  Our  popular  songs  are  all  dance  muwc, 
and  are  kept  running  in  our  heads  so  that  we  waltz  through 
our  sermons,  write  prescriptions  in  three-fcur  time,  and  add 
up  columns  to  the  music  of  the  Grizzly  Bear.  Our  very 
conversation  is  a  song  and  dance.  The  effect  of  this  wave 

of  rhythm  upon  the  meeting  of  our  boys  and  giris  is  seen  in 
the  great  increase  in  the  amount,  and  what  we  may  perliaps 
call  the  intensity,  of  sodal  dandng.  It  has  indeed  created 
nothing  new,  nothing  that  was  not  bound  to  exist  in  any 
case.  ThAt  a  popular  diversion  should  be  established  at 
the  pomt  where  rhythm  and  aex  attraction  meet  was,  in 
fact,  inevitable.  Our  i««8ent  obnssion  simply  accents  a 
permanent  condition. 

The  danger  that  rhythm  gives  to  dandng  is  a  danger  that 
attends  it  everywhere :  it  is  present  in  music  and  in  oratory 
and,  more  or  less,  in  other  forms  of  art, — the  danger,  already 
noted,  whidi  constituted  Fanny  Kemble's  objeetioa  to  the 
rtage,  €i  geanatbg  vaan  emotion  than  it  — ^Hfir 


BOYS  AND  GIRLS  417 

In  the  maldng  up  of  this  critical  equation  between  emo- 
tion and  Its  satisfaction,  rhythm  not  only  adds  to  the  side 
on  which  danger  lies,  but  it  also  subtracts  from  the  other 
It  both  strengthens  the  attack  and  weakens  the  drfense. 
arouses  emotion,  and  lulls  to  sleep  the  moral  and  intellectual 
faculties.    Ac  has  been  said  in  an  earlier  chapter,  rhythm 
acts  as  a  narcotic.   Like  alcohol  it  dulls  the  finer  sensibilities, 
relaxes  the  acqmred  inhibitions,  tets  off  the  brakes  of  custom, 
conscience,  and  public  opinion,  ai  !  kaves  the  stage  free 
the  chance  emotion  of  the  moment.   Such  lulling  to  rest 
IS  a  boon  when  the  road  is  long  and  stretches  straight  ahead, 
but  at  other  times  it  may  be  very  dangerous.  Kropotkin 
tells  that  hares  sometimes  become  so  intoxicated  in  their 
sport  as  to  take  a  fox  for  playmate.  It  is  often  so  in  our 
dance  halls    Emancipation  by  rhythm  may  lead  as  in  the 

.^^^i^""^^'"  ^    ^PP^  directions  as  iUu.. 

trated  m  "Fanny's  First  Play." 

The  pownfol  dfect  of  rhythm  in  promoting  social  fusion, 
breaking  down  the  barriers  of  personaKty,  and  leaving  the 
individual  open  to  the  suggestion  of  time  and  place  and 
company  is  another  source  of  danger. 

Here^  we  have  an  instinct  protean  in  its  manifestations. 
Possessmg  the  power  to  abolish  social  conventions,  exer^ 
cising  a  hypnotic  influence  upon  the  conscience  and  the 
brain  -  a  power  that  has  manifested  itself  in  orgies  of  many 
sorts,  in  religious  and  social  frenzies,  culminating  oftrafa 
human  sacrifice,  from  the  first  tribal  ceremony  down  to  the 
horrws  performed  to  the  ay  of  fa  ira.  And  it  is  this 
aboriginal  untamed  force,  coming  up  out  of  the  great  sea  of 
our  subconscwus  nature,  that  is  turned  kose  m  our  dance 
balls  without  any  effective  regulation  or  restraint 

mat  are  we  to  do  about  this  situation  ?  The  answer.  I 
thmk,  IS  chiefly  to  be  found  in  the  great  positive  frinction  of 


*18  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

rhythm  in  our  life.  There  is  one  good  fairy  left  to  make  hei 
gift. 

Rhythm  is  the  common  elemait  in  afl  tke  arts,  the  true 
parent  of  the  Muses,  who  are  simply  the  diflbrent  incama- 
tions  m  which  the  god  delights  and  satisfies  mankind  In 
discusang  rhythm  we  are  considering  not  the  dance  pmhlera 
•tone  but  the  wlwle  question  of  art  and  what  to  do  with 

it* 

You  ^not  abolish  rhythm.  It  ia  bora  anew  «l  every 
child.  You  cannot  safely  leave  it  to  direct  itseV.  What 
IS  our  wisest  course?  Where  is  it  a  benefit,  a  creator  of 
beii^,  an  enhancer  of  our  life,  and  where  does  it  become  a 
oaa§etot  a  drag? 

I  believe  that  the  answer  to  our  question  is  found  in  the 
myth  of  Bacchus  -  of  Bacchus  the  god  of  life  and  art,  the 
god  of  wine,  the  god  of  the  primal  forces  that  well  up  in  us 
-of  song  and  esctasy-the  god  who  entrances  and  in- 
toncates,  moires  and  makes  us  mad. 

The  Greeks  were  very  conscious  of  the  problem.  They 
knew  what  art  is  if  any  one  has  ever  known.   And  they 
knew  Its  dangers,  and  prayerfully  considered  in  what  direc 
taon  safety  Ues.   They  even  had  their  Puritans,  of  whom 
iTato- ^ose  discourse  on  education  is  largely  a  discussion 
of  the  different  sorts  of  music  and  their  effects -is  an 
Illustrious  exampfe.  And  their  conclusion  is  expressed  in 
the  myth  of  the  great  god  Bacchus,  whom  the  Thebans 
unpnsoned  and  who,  in  revenge  for  such  mistreatment, 
drove  kmg  and  people  mad.   In  that  story  is  compressed 
the  condusion  of  what  was  both  the  most  artistic  and  the 
most  philosophic  race  the  world  has  seen.  Our  safety 
according  to  the  Greeks,  is  found  in  receiving  the  great  god 
of  hfe  and  beauty,  of  dance  and  song,  of  frenzv  and  in- 
spiration, m  Ustening  to  his  message  and  actively  obeying  it; 


BOYS  AND  GIRLS  419 

iWthere'"  ^  ^  P"**"** 

The  Greeks  themselves  based  their  whole  system  of 

Aey  called  it  the  latter  nearly  corresponding  with  rhythm 
in  Its  various  forms.  Homer  was  their  universal  textbook; 
even  the  Spartans  had  the  war  songs  of  Tyrteus  as  thei^ 

2*1.  ."^^  ^'^"^^  "^^^     elaboration  of  the  ritual 

with  which  his  festival  was  celebrated. 

But  it  is  not  enough  merely  to  receive  the  god  The 
world  s  great  mistakes  in  dealing  with  him  through  all  the 
ages  have  come  from  alternations  of  such  passive  «H»g- 
rution  with  the  denial  that  inevitably  follows  it. 
essence  of  our  piety  is  in  its  activity :  we  must  wrestle  with 
the  angel,  not  passively  receive,  but  cultivate.  Inspiration 
must  stir  to  achievement,  not  put  to  sle^. 

The  alternation  between  the  denial  of  the  god  and  his 
too  passive  reception  -  between  puritanism  and  emotional 
indulgence -has  been  going  on  from  the  days  of  the  Greeks 
down  to  the  present  time,  and  doubtless  was  an  old  storv 
when  the  Greek  myth  grew  up.  FoUowing  the  period  of 
ancient  art.  through  the  long  Middle  Ages,  puritanism 
reigned ;  the  ascetic  was  the  ideal,  and  it  was  thought  holy 
to  deny  the  flesh.    Human  nature  at  last  rebelled,  and 
tliere  came  the  renaissance,  the  rebirth  of  man,  of  the 
humamtws,  the  rediscov«y  of  beauty  and  of  art.  Then 
once  again  the  god  was  too  strong  for  the  people,  or  their 
obedience  became  too  passive;  art  descends!  into  sensuaKty 

the  ^"Si^Tl^'  ^f*r  *°  '^^  "The  Rise  of 

w^rt  J!,r  '""""""^       interpretation,  partly  hi. 

words.    Ba^ohus  comes  pretty  near  to  being  identiad  Utt  litiv! 

what  I  hay.  called  purposeful  and  exuberant  play. 


^  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

TTien  came  another  puritan  reaction.  And  now,  once  more, 
the  god  denied  by  us,  as  by  the  ancient  Thebans,  is  breaking 
from  hi8  prison,  appearing  in  his  cruder  form,  and  threatening 
to  drive  us  mad. 

And  the  solution  now  is  what  it  has  always  been.  We 

must  stretch  our  virtue  to  cover  human  nature  as  it  is- 
must  learn  not  only  not  to  deny  the  god  but  to  receive 
lum  heartily,  and  grant  him  positive  service  —  to  take  this 
great  element  of  riiythm  and  work  it  into  forms  of  beauty  as 
an  essential  part  of  life. 

Specifically,  danger  is  in  the  inartistic,  the  unformed.  It 
is  the  too  simple  rhythm  that  is  hypnotic,  the  rhytim  to 
which  you  he  passive  -  that  requires  no  effort  of  attention 
-sounds  a  luUaby  to  the  moral  and  restraining  faculties. 
I  saw,  at  the  World's  Fair  in  CWcago,  a  West  Coast  Indian 
chief  who  could  in  a  few  minutes  make  his  people  nearly 
crazy  over  a  simple  bang  bang  bang  on  a  packing  case. 
The  hysteria  at  coUege  games  is  largely  produced  by  cheer- 
mg  based  on  the  same  principle.   It  is  the  same  with  the 
hypnotic  forms  of  poUtical  or  pulpit  oratory.   "Let  the 
people  rufe.   Let  the  people  nifo.   Let  the  people  mfo." 
At  the  thousandth  repetition  you  begin  to  feel  that  this 
sound  contains  some  vast  portentous  meaning.  Sleep 
comes  mth  the  simple  recurring  rhythm,  the  swing  that 
goes  on  forever,  the  sound  that  carries  you  upon  its  waves, 
wraps  you  m  a  world  where  there  are  no  longer  any  out- 
hncs- no  landmarks,  no  fixed  facts,      hard  realities - 
oiUy  a  feehng  without  form,  a  drifting  on  the  infinitely  sue 
«eding  waves.   It  is  the  pa  ira  that  intoxicates,  the  repeti- 
tion that  narrows  the  active  consciousness  to  a  pin  point 
of  attention,  the  dismissal  of  activity  towarf  any  concrete 
end,  while  emotion  keeps  pifing  up  untQ  it  naches  the 
burstmg  point  or  overflows. 


BOYS  AND  GIRLS  421 

Danger  is  in  the  too  simple  rhythm.  But  contained  in 
eveiy  rhythm  there  is  the  potentiality  of  unending  ricC 
of  repression.  The  immortality  of  Shake^Tis  la^T 
m  the  music  of  his  verse;  and  that,  thr^out  auZ 
pUys,  consttts  .Imort  wholly  of  ringing  the  changes  on  one 

very  snnple  metre.  It  i.  in  elaborating  these  finer  implil 
tions  that  safety  lies. 

A  concrete  and  infinite  ideal  of  beauty  is  locked  in  eveiy 

Iw^Aore  IS  stin  one  of  the  muses,  though  bad  company 
h«  hurt  her  reputation.  Nobody  could  be  called  a  d^cer 
who  ever  expressed  the  music  as  he  felt  it  And  the  ideal 
IS  impei-sonal,  mexorable,  wholly  above  our  will  a  l«r 

i^^.^i  fi''''^  art -including  social  dancing 
^^r.''^'^^'^^''!;«>'^^'^'^^^oit^ment  Wisdom 
s  not  m  tummg  a  deaf  ear  to  the  voice,  but  in  religious 

ittnT'  f  !5  "^'^ ^  ^ 

a^ten^on  is  feed  upon  the  reading  and  realization  of  the 
Ideal  there  will  be  no  vertigo,  no  fren^;  the  whirling  dervirii 
effects  of  rhythm  will  be  avoided. 

Art  is  active  obedience  to  im^tion.  Evil  has  come 
to  us  not  from  art  but  from  the  absence  of  it.  It  is  the 

bald  uncultivated  rhythm  that  puts  the  soul  to  sleep. 
cape  IS  m  the  elaborated,  the  highly  wrought.   Even  co- 
quet^  -  developed  art  of  sex  fttraction  -t 

I  beheve  a  safety  on  the  whole.  The  spirit  of  an  Irish 

rh^nTf^'l  "^^^^       ^'^^^^^  J'^to  constructive 

^«nel^  finding  new  forms  of  beauty  in  the  unending^^ 

™ightmto  the  infinite  forms  of  art 


4i«2  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

Let  us  not  be  too  fearful  or  too  negative.  Life,  upon  the 

whole,  IS  good,  not  bad.  It  was  made  for  Uving,  not  to  be 
cast  aside.  The  mutual  attraction  of  boy  and  girl,  that 
has  in  it  not  only  the  physical  continuation  of  the  race,  but 
abo  the  perpetuation  of  the  family  and  of  happy  infancy  — 
Aat  contains  gieat  part  of  the  interest  and  beauty  of  our 
hves-is  not  a  power  to  be  decried  or  fought  against 
We  believe  in  life,  not  death,  in  art,  not  in  asceticism.  We 
J^(»me  the  love  song  of  the  bird,  the  blossom  on  the  tree. 
We  bdieve  that  wings  were  made  for  flying,  the  heart  of  a 
man  for  the  heart  of  a  maid,  and  that  the  object  of  it  aU  — 
to  be  furthered  by  us  and  not  obstructed -is  that  they 
might  have  life  and  that  th«y  might  have  it  more  abundantly. 

I  h»T»  qwkm  on  page  405  and  elsewhere  in  thu  chapter  of  the 
many  ingredients  of  love,  including,  besides  sex.  the  ««i«t«S  tamoto 
oonu*desh.p  and  gregariouane-s.    The  last  nai^d^STIS 

£SSr  ^  New  Testament 

-tnaUy  into  that  emotion  of  democraoy,  porno  d,mccratica  that 
inspired  St.  Pranou.  Qeoig.  Fox.  «,d  GarSoT  iffsl^Tln  it 

oi^^^^''^  *°  ^  -ith  stiU  aL- 

ffmlft!?^  '   •  °'  imaginative  reaUzation.  amounting 

almost  to  transmigration,  that  enables  the  person  so  illuminated  Mi 
on^to  tove  his  neighbor  a.  himself  but  to  feel  that  joya^HSn 
joodwd  evil.      ^ually  «^  «d  equaUy  important  theth^  Xy 

'^rj  !^'''  '•^^        or  even  to  «v  menSS 

of  the  animal  kingdom.  "wumw 

As  in  the  case  of  every  other  combination  of  inrtinots.  an  analysis 

^  W  "r/f ^  '^^"^^ ^  »  Love  is  JteJ 

^  J«t  love.  It  i.  more  than  the  sum  of  its  ingredients :  and  8e«. « 
whatever  else  produces  the  illumination,  seems  more  Uke  the 

like  the  ooBferring  of  a  peculiar  power. 


CHAPTER  XLV 

IBB  APPBSMTICB  TB4M 

OHm:  Now  sir  I    WUt  mdie  you  he»f 
Orlando:  Nothing:  I  am  not  taught  to  mA 
Oliver:  What  mar  you  then,  sir? 

li*iry,  m,lam  helping  you  to  mar  that  which  GnH  m.^. 
•  poor  unwortlv  brother  rfyowi^lihl^^ 

of  t.'^  r'"?  '^^'^o'f^liy  -dohKent  period 
of  the  age  of  loyalty  con.es  the  marked  diSmmtit^  ^ 
only  of  tlie  sex^  but  of  individuals.  This  is  the  tim. 
the  p«t,„g  of  the  ways,  when  the  children  who  have  untU 
n«w  been  t»vdK»g4iO  together  begm  to  divide  in^g^n^ 
•ceoKimg  to  their  wvenUdertiMtloia.  «n>«P« 
I  do  not  mean  that  up  to  thb  age  ehadren  «.  d|  lOik.. 

AowB  rtself  ahnost  with  the  first  cry.  certainly 

fert  hcking  of  the  legs,  and  is  marked  at  every  period  of 

grow^.   Butstthebegii^h^of^kJes^ncethe  inXwu^ 

bias  becomes  much  more  emphwbed  «Ki  bqpn.  to  u£e  ito 

permanent  direction.  The  pw^iectioM  efX 

age,  when  «wii«hc 

Jade  will  be  a  soldier 
And  Ifaiial  fo  to  sei^ 

require  much  fartuition  on  the  part  of  outsiders  for  their 
translation  into  terms  of  uWiwite  vocational  dcSinv  •  Z 
even  those  of  the  Big  Injun  age  are  h^l^Z^^^^ 
their  mdications.   But  when,  at  the  ageTf ourtJ^. 

orgirlshowsadeddedsetinagivendi^ZTk,^ 

423 


^  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

to  suppose  that  •  kting  intomt  Ikt  mmmAmt  th««  « 

thereabouts, 

mLl^* Jf^  a«  many  exceptions.  Indications  of 
Pmmeiit  individud  bia.  often  anucipate  this  stage  of 
trrowUi,  and  sometimes  wait  beyond  it  Momt  was  a 
notable  musician  at  the  age  of  seven,  while  Thadnmy  dis- 
covered  at  forty  that  he  was  a  writer  and  aTiTmisL 
"j*"^'*^'  ^^'^'^^^"ts.  In  many  people 
•  diatiiict  ywsation.1  tendency  never  shows  itself  at  all. 
TTiese  last  instances  may.  however,  be  due  to  the  ab«n«. 
n  modem  society  of  the  vocations,  such  as  war  Mid  hunting 
to  which  some  of  our  inherited  capacities  relate. 

♦1.^**;^'^  '"'^''^'^"^^  differences  there  is  also  the  fact 
vocational  tendencies  bud  of!  at  different 
periods.  Artbte  and  musicians  have  usually  created  mis- 
givings among  their  wiser  reiMives  befote  they  have  reached 
their  teens,  while  of  philosophers  Plato  says  that  no  mm 
abound  settle  down  to  that  profession  before  he  is  forty. 

^"^^^'^    ^"""J  "ntil  that  a^ 
n»e  period  <^  adolescence  is,  nrvertheless,  in  the  majority 
^cas^the  time  at  whiA  the  individual  bent  begiL  to 

^u^"^' °'     fin*^  direction 

t^i^nTlS^lJ^S  V  ^^^'^^'^"^^ 
th.;nwT-  w  ^  ^^"^  moment  is 

the  interest  m  his  own  future  which  now  takes  possession  d 
the  child  himself,  and  becomes  henc«forwa«lTZ^ 
mo^n  his  life.  It  is  at  this  age  that  he  begins  tT^ 
concretely  and  seriously  of  what  he  is  to  do  and  be,  to  look 
forward  to  a  grownsip  c«eer.   The  future,  no  longer  as  a 

w^^  Set  ^«  ^  •  fector  in  his 

workL  He  IS  hereafter  not  meiebr  dobf  thia  or  that  as  a 


TO  APFMWTICE  YXAB8  i3t 

pulse  towsni  inhM -  "-^Mve.  totai.  To  the  im- 

for  the  «hievi^  I*.  b.«.  «i<l«l  .  .kim 

To  .  p..,  ,1,,         ^  ^^^^ 

let.™  «^"<«»h 

up  «d  showTtZ^^^l^T'  w.*'""  "•^ 

....u  .  !.•  ..  P""ef  to  (IMP  real  thiim.  vUlib 
•uch  to  haa,    a  way  of  ~ttiiw  >t  k.1  .1,!™^  > 

look  ^  Meei  tCS,^t  ^^^V^' 

i.  to  b.  con.,  .t  in  tend!^^**' 

lo^  rjr^™/'        »» ti™t 

•t  tkB  partttuto  .g.  «ri  .to  ti«««gh      deiTL  tt. 


428  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


achieving  life  —  nature  adding,  as  is  her  wont,  a  generd 
clause  prescribing  action  toward  her  object  as  such,  to  her 
more  special  enactment  tending  in  the  same  direction :  for 
both  these  reasons  the  age  <rf  adolescence  is  the  age  of  special- 
izing, with  particular  jeference  to  vocati<m. 

And  this  tendency  to  specialize  will  henceforth  be  an 
essential  element  in  growth.  The  remaining  years  of  in- 
fancy, from  fourteen  to  twenty-one,  constitute  the  appren- 
tice age,  formerly  well  recognized  as  such,  in  which  growth 
is  by  its  own  law  directed  toward  those  special  powers  in 
which  the  individual  feels  his  future  serviceableness  to  Ke. 

Up  to  this  time  the  child  has  tended  toward  an  all-round 
growth,  —  each  of  his  constituent  instincts  crying  for  utter- 
ance and  having  its  part  in  his  formation.   His  own  impulse 
and  the  duty  of  others  toward  him  has  been  the  promotion 
of  his  general  education,  a  leading  out  of  all  the  forces  of 
which  his  spiritual  nature  is  composed.   The  good  fairies 
prep-nt  at  his  birth  have  each  claimed  opportunity  to  demon- 
strate and  confirm  her  gift.   Even  when  the  child  himself 
has  failed  to  reach  out  spontaneously  toward  any  one  of  the 
great  instinctive  capacities  Of  human  nature,  it  has  been  the 
educator's  duty  to  stir  him  to  such  action.   Some  children 
have  to  be  coaxed  to  eat,  and  it  is  sometimes  the  same  with 
the  play  instincts ;  the  machinery  is  there,  and  the  force  is 
there,  but  it  may  require  a  shake  to  set  it  going.   Up  to 
adolescence  our  aim  should  be  to  cultivate,  m  every  chUd, 
the  child  universal  —  to  know  the  gold  is  there  and  dig  for  it.' 

Of  course  the  method,  even  before  adolescence,  will  often 
be  through  temporary  specialization,  the  effort  being  to 
reach  the  real  life  somewhere,  presumably  where  it  burns 
most  strong,  and  coax  the  flame  to  spread.  But  at  the 
speciaUring  age  there  should  be  a  radical  difference  of  accent. 
It  is  now  a  question  not  of  alkound  growth,  but  of  growth 


THE  APPRENTICE  YEARS 


427 

toward  a  p.irticular  form  of  service    TK—  ...  i*  . 

well  «  „.„  job       make  .CW^j; 

d«.  ,ui.e  l<«e  life  under  on.  couT o/^S^ 
But  whMev«  nuy  be  the  d«ir.ble  limits  of  sn^^aT 
tlu.  » the  .g.  «  wlioh  it  inrtinctively  begi,^:  """'''^ 

The  appearance  of  the  desire  for  the  achieving  BkMb^t 

of  m^tJ  V  ""tnhutoiy  cause  is  in  a  simultaneous  change 

moUve^tL  whol  T'' 

v«T  P^pective  w«,t," 

v^»««sa^to  the  majority  of  mankind  and  a  help  to 

;nhi„,  no.  for  the  ^"JT:,  X^fcth^:? 
But  in  the  main  the  thrurt  Umu4  futme  .chievement 


428  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


have  before  observed,  is  considered  a  worker ;  as  is  the  artist, 

the  scientist,  or  the  reformer  whose  service  is  not  paid  tar 
during  his  life ;  money  payment  being  evidence  of  work  done, 
not  a  part  or  n^-oessary  consequence  of  the  thing  itself. 
The  pomt  is  not  in  making  mimey  but  in  making  good,  doing 
your  part  in  the  social  whole  to  which  you  happen  to  belong. 

Work  is  a  correlative  of  duty.  Its  essence  is  not  in  what 
is  received  but  in  what  is  rendered.  Work  is  a  social  func- 
tion; it  is  public  and  official,  the  filling  of  a  part,  the  dis- 
charge of  an  obligation.  It  is  the  full  expression  of  the 
belonging  instinct.  What  makes  the  boy  prepare  to  do  hb 
share  in  the  grown-up  world  is  his  new  perception  diat 
the  grown-up  world  is  to  be  henceforth  his  team :  the  ap- 
prentice spirit  comes  inevitably  with  the  enlarged  conception 
of  the  gang  to  include  the  social  order  in  which  he  finds 
himsdf.  It  has  dawned  upon  him  that  he  is  himself  by  his 
voy  nature  a  dtizen,  a  member  of  the  community ;  «id  he 
wants  to  measure  up,  to  be  a  member  in  full  standing,  to 
say  "We,  the  citizens  of  Ghent,"  to  enter  as  an  equal  into 
grown-up  social  life,  as  the  .gang  member  satisfies  the  stand- 
ard ol  the  gang.  It  is  the  old  team  spirit  which  tells  him 
that  he  must  hoM  down  hb  jdb  as  he  wouM  hdd  down 
third  base.  Work  b  alwi^  and  forever  an  taepnamm  ci 
the  team  instinct. 

The  direct  specializing  tendency  itself  is  also  reenforced  by 
the  team  sense.  The  best  team  games,  as  we  have  seen,  are 
those  in  which  each  player  hw  his  special  part  assigned,  be- 
cause it  is  only  throuc^  rea^omalMlity  for  a  qwdal  part  thrt 
the  whole  fully  enters  into  you  —  only  as  you  are  a  bearer 
jf  its  interests  at  a  particular  point  that  you  receive  the  full 
voltage  of  the  common  life.  The  team  instinct  prescribes 
i9ecialiaati<m  in  woric  as  m  other  games,  because  that  b  the 
method  of  its  fidlest  satbfaetion. 


THE  APPBENnCE  YEABS  m 

Tlie  instinct  to  be  aoMbody  which  in  the  Big  Injun  age 
demanded  indiscriminate  sd^awertieii  -  nttanmee  nm- 
how  anyhow,  of  the  self  as  an  outstandmg  fact  against  the 
world  -  now  requires  a  social  as  well  as  an  individual  achieve- 
ment; or  rather,  the  social  relation  is  now  seen  not  merely 
om  ef  eentTMt  ami  appraisal.-a  silhouette  of  self  against 
a  social  background.  -  but  partly  a.  one  of  combination, 
mutual  absorption  on  the  part  ol  tlie  individual  and  the 
community.   The  self  that  is  asserted  is  now  a  person,  a 
being  whose  hfe  is  involved  in  the  fulfillment  of  social  re- 
tatioa.  who  can  fully  live  only  as  he  is  a  functionary,  maldns 
himself  a  place  as  a  member  of  society.  * 
Work  is  thus  a  correlative  of  the  team  sense  awl  wouki 
no  exist  without  it.   Without  membership  there  wouW 
still  be  play  of  the  other  achieving  instincts.   And  there 
would  be  drudgery,  and  exertion  to  the  point  of  pain  and 
wear.nc»  such  «  eveiy  animal  endures.   There  might  also 
be  the  direct  and  independent  tendency  to  specialize,  though 
not  m  the  sense  of  taking  a  special  part  m  a  common  life  or 
undertaking.   But  there  would  not  be  work,  because  there 
wouW  not  be  service  to  a  whole :  there  would  be  no  whole 
to  which  service  couki  be  owed.   It  is  membership  that 

confers  the  possibility  of  work,  and  imts  a  blessing  on  it.  It 
IS  so  from  the  first  day  the  child  says.  "I'm  Mothw's  Uttle 

the  boy  that  brings  the  wood."  down  to  the  time  when 
tee  man  CM  say/'  Now  permittest  thou  thy  servant  to  depart 

trr  the  belonging  inst^ct 

It  IS  the  team  play  of  maturity. 

Work  is  the  life-saver  of  mankind  because  bdondnff  is 
the  great  morahzing  instinct.  "The  day  a  boyfXLt 
bis  w^  .3  worth  more  than  he  is.  that  day  the  boy  becomes 
•  n-n.    (Jaarn  G.  Croswell).   "Man"  was  the  very 


430  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


name  conferred  in  Athens  on  the  new  citizen.  His  work  is 
to  him  worth  more  than  he  is  because  the  team  is  more  than 
he  is,  and  work  is  that  which  serves  the  team.  The  mark 
of  all  true  work  is  subordmation  to  the  huger  wiB.  Thow 
on  whom  this  tie  will  hold,  who  feel  the  ob-ligatifla  and  an 
bound  by  it,  are  the  true  workers  aod  the  tarn  amatB,  who 
have  found  the  way  of  life. 

The  apprentice  impulse  is,  as  we  haw  seen,  the  outgrowth 
of  the  team  sense  and  of  a  specific  tendency  to  «y*NiKip 
It  is  essential  to  observe  that  instinctive  specialization  is 
upon  some  form  of  usefulness  within,  and  not  outside  of, 
the  child's  native  constitution.  It  is  the  form  in  which  his 
natural  bent  dedares  itself.  It  points  the  way  in  which  the 
vital  force  in  him  is  headed,  the  only  way  In  which  it  can  be 
fully  realized. 

Thus  growth  during  the  apprentice  age  has  normally  two 
dimensions:  belonging,  and  the  satisfaction  of  the  other 
instincts  that  give  the  child's  bent  and  prescribe  his  special 
form  of  service.   The  two  aie  not  indeed  added,  but  multi- 
plied together.   He  aims  not  to  make  good  and  to  foUow  art, 
nurture,  science,  or  whatever  the  other  strand  may  be,  but 
to  make  good  through  such  expression.    Trae  work  and' true 
apprenticeship  are  found  at  the  crossroads  where  two  main 
instincts  meet,  or  mow  UttB  two.   It  is  by  definition  on  the 
great  thoroughfare  of  Miirfiuiuhip  -  on  the  busiest  part  of 
that  thoroughfare,  where  aO  the  people  pass -for  its  charter 
IS  derived  not  from  some  exclusive  gang  or  guUd,  but  from 
the  social  body  as  a  whole.    And  it  is  also  on  some  other 
road  along  which  flows  another  stream  of  life,  and  which 

may  be  any  of  the  other  pby  hwtincts  or  any  group  of  them. 
Originally  this  other  diflMsbn  of  work,  and  of  the  growth 

of  the  a^tentioe  «w  men  chiefly  the  hunting  and 


THE  APPRENTICE  YEARS  431 

fighting  instincts,  for  women  nurture,  with  an  admixture, 
for  both,  of  Ae  comrtnictive  iiatinct.  The  boy  went  hunt- 
mg  with  his  father,  and  wlieii  he  was  old  enough  joined  the 
war  band.  Girls  helped  their  mother  in  caring  for  the 
home  and  younger  ehUdren.  Both  found  work  for  their 
hands  m  fashioning  spears  and  arrows  and  utensils.  Nowa- 
days the  oomtoictive  instinct  has  a  wider  place,  and  there  is 
through  the  de^pment  of  the  arts  •  larger  element  of 
rhythm.  But.  of  whatever  instinct,  it  may  consist,  there  is 
normally  m  the  growth  of  the  apprentice  age  this  other 
dimension  to  be  multiplied  by  that  of  membership. 

It  is  true  the  desire  to  make  good  is  paramount,  and  will 
If  necessary  take  the  cbiM  across  desert  spaces  where  no 
other  instinct  leads.   As  hunger  wiU  drive  the  cat  to  sedc 
food  not  by  hunting  alone,  but  by  any  method  that  wiU  gam 
the  end.  so  wUl  the  team  sense  drive  man  to  face  not  only 
«rtemal  obstacles  but  those  more  formidable  difficulties 
that  he  withm  his  own  ^5piritual  nature.   But  such  is  not 
the  way  of  natural  growth.  The  api»eiitioe  years  should 
lead  up  to  the  full  fruition  of  the  pby  mstincts,  their  enhaBt 
satisfaction,  not  a  denial  of  them.   This  should  be  the  time 
of  the  child's  best  dream  come  true,  when  the  doll  becomes  a 
real  baby  and  the  mud  pie  a  real  house,  the  ring-around-a- 
nsy  a  commonwealth  to  live  and  die  for-the  time  when 
at  the  touch  of  reality  the  fuU  power  is  turned  on,  the  chiki's 
whole  vital  force  let  loose  atong  the  path  where  nature  kads. 
and  not  away  from  it. 

This  does  not  mean  the  coming  of  soft  and  easy  times 
Ota  the  contraiy  the  apprentice  years  are  for  each  individual 
the  time  of  stress,  of  war  with  obstacles  both  outskle  and 
w>thin,  the  time  for  hammering  his  tools,  mduding  his  own 
nature,  into  the  .shape  his  future  work  demands.  It  is  an 
inevitable  characteristic  of  this  period  that  there  shall  be 


*82  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

hardship,  pain,  even  the  risk  of  death.  Hardship  and  pain 
Me,  to  be  sure,  not  our  real  enemies.  What  is  to  be  dreaded 
18  not  the  chance  of  war,  but  the  having  no  chance,  in  war  or 
otherwise,  to  wreak  our  natural  powers  m  work.  That  is 
the  real  death  —  never  to  have  the  means  of  getting  bom  — 
and  it  is  to  the  avoidance  of  such  death,  through  the  forging 
of  work's  necessary  tools,  that  the  apprentice  years  are  de- 
voted by  nature's  law. 

But  supposing  there  are  trades  that  do  not  possess  this 
double  satisfaction,  services  that  must  be  rendeied,  and  in 
the  performance  of  which  many  men  must  find  their  liveli- 
hood, that  are  not  in  any  considerable  degree  a  fulfillment 
of  any  instinct  besides  that  of  belonging;  means  of  making 
good,  but  of  no  other  form  of  satisfaction.  That  there  are 
such  trades,  that  a  very  huge  part  of  modem  industry  con- 
sists of  such,  is  a  matter  of  common  observation.  Although 
so  great  a  man  as  Froebel  seemed  to  believe,  in  his  invmdble 
faith  in  the  perfect  adjustment  of  the  universe,  that  every 
talent  had  at  least  its  spiritual  market  waiting  for  it,  it  is 
impossible  for  most  of  us  to  persuade  ouradves  that  such  is 
actually  the  case.   There  is  in  fact  a  great  and  tragic  malad- 
justment  between  industrial  work  and  spiritual  requirement, 
constituting,  I  think,  the  most  serious  evU  of  our  modem 
life.  This  maladjustment  we  must  discuss  in  the  succeed- 
ing chapters. 


CHAPTER  XLVI 

THE  DISLOCATION  OF  CIVILIZED  LIFE 

Life  is  found  in  the  fulfillment  of  those  leUtions  to  the 
world  outside  ourselves  that  are  prophesied  in  the  play  in- 
stmrts,  83  in  the  relation  to  workable  materials,  to  the 
family  and  to  the  state.   In  most  respects  there  exists  at 
least  the  poesibflity  of  such  fulfillment,  -  that  which  the 
world  offers  corresponding  approximately  to  what  nature  has 
foreseen.   The  mother's  love  and  appreciation  meet  the 
child  s  need  as  he  feels  it.   She  is  much  the  sort  of  mother 
he  would  have  made  if  the  matter  had  been  left  to  him 
Convendy  he  filb  a  pUoe  that  was  waiting  for  him  in  her 
heart.   So  plants  and  animab  and  younger  children  meet 
the  fostering  instinct  that  is  in  us  aU.  So  the  stars,  the  sea 
the  land,  the  infinitely  varied  phenomena  of  nature,  seen! 
made  to  arouse  and  satisfy  our  instincts  of  awe  and  curiosity. 
Nature  furnishes  material  sm'ted  to  our  hand  and  mind 
Her  water  is  very  good  to  swim  in,  her  land  to  run  upon, 
her  trees  to  climb,  her  mysteries  to  solve. 

In  the  matter  of  self-support,  also,  nature's  original  pro- 
vision was  equally  germane.  Hunting,  fishing,  fighting; 
"tetang  and  throwing;  running,  dodging,  lying  in  wait.  - 
the  forms  of  activity  which  h«  industrial  system  required 
were  those  most  clearly  prophesied  ia  our  instinctive  impulses. 
Ihe  adjustment,  here  as  elsewhere,  was  once  sufficiently 
exact :  spiritual  expression  was  found  in  the  same  activhieB 
that  supplied  physical  need. 

a»  433 


PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

But  as  stated  in  the  chapter  on  Drudgery  (XXXH).  it  is 
not  so  now.   We  can  no  longer  live  by  hunting  and  war  and 
foray.  Ut  must,  in  order  to  be  self-supporting,  content  our- 
Klvea  in  peat  measure  with  tying  threads,  selling  ribbons, 
digging  holes,  or  other  even  less  apposite  pursuits.  Ayounjr 
man  has  spent  the  week  bending  over  the  columns  of  a  ledger  • 
a  young  woman  has  passed  the  working  days  standing  at  a 
machme  making  a  few  simple  motions  of  the  hand.  The 
hours  of  strength  and  youth,  the  golden  morning  hours  in 
which  the  vital  current  is  at  its  height,  which  mold  life  and 
destiny  according  to  the  use  we  make  of  them.'  have  gone  in 
such  employments  as  these. 

As  stated  in  the  chapter  just  cited,  the  trouble  has  come 
through  new  and  more  effective  ways  of  supplying  our  phys- 
ical  needs.  The  Golden  Age  when  man  lived  by  nature's 
law  has  been  forfeited  by  too  much  knowledge;  in  the  sweat 
of  his  brow  shall  he  henceforth  eat  bread.   Civilisation  has  so 
altered  the  rules  of  the  game  that  it  is  no  longer  our  game  as 
Whispered  to  us  m  our  inner  consciousness.   Some  of  our 
deepnrt  mstbcts  wtt  thus  left  hanging  in  the  air,  calling  for 
a  fulfillment  that  dr^  not  exist,  reaching  out  to  do  things 
th  at  cannot  be  done  and  wiU  get  us  mto  trouble  if  we  attempt 
to  do  thcin.  *^ 

Even  the  creative  instinct  is  disappointed  in  most  modem 
emplojanents.  Specialization  ha.  been  a  great  promoter  of 
our  industnal  civilization;  and  specialization,  as  we  have 
snid  IS  also  an  mstinctivc  tendency,  making  its  appearance 
at  the  apprentice  age  as  a  i)hase  of  normal  growth.  But  in- 
stinctive specializing  is  along  the  line  of  some  achievbg  in- 
stmct.  It  is  of  the  kind  that  carries  some  art  or  calling  to 
the  pitch  of  mastery,  so  concentrating  power  that  it  may 
break  through  at  some  one  point  into  a  higher  circle  of 
expression.  Even  in  that  case  there  fa  need  <rf  suppkanen- 


THE  DISLOCATION  OP  CIVILIZED  LUB  485 

Ury  activity  -  no  man  is  quite  aU  singer,  sculptor,  scientist 
-  no  employment  anohnrnduMl  cathoBc.  so  pervious  to 
the  motions  of  the  huiMn  spirit,  aa  whoUy  to  ooiiv«y  tlia 
soul  of  any  man. 

But  specialization  in  our  modem  industry  is  not  spedali- 
sation  upon  an  art,  nor  according  to  the  laws  of  art.   It  is 
not  even  specialisation  upon  a  service,  upon  a  whole  achieve- 
ment of  any  sort  It  is  spedalmtkm  wUkin  the  task, 
earned  to  so  extreme  a  point,  leaving  to  each  worker  so 
mmute  a  contribution  to  the  result,  that  nothing  of  sig- 
nificance remains  -  like  the  division  of  a  fabric  into  pieces 
~  smdl  that  neither  form  nor  color  is  any  longer  visible. 
There  is  m  much  of  our  specialised  industry  practically 
notliing  left  that,  except  in  the  satisfaction  of  the  belonging 
instinct,  of  which  no  form  of  work  can  be  deprived,  can 
serve  as  a  channel  for  the  human  soul. 

It  is  this  sidestepping  of  industrial  Ufe  that  is  responsible 
for  a  gieat  part  of  the  active  trouble,  and  what  is  worse,  for 
much  of  the  dreary  emptiness  and  waste  of  life,  to  which 
civ-ilization  has  given  rise.  The  break  Is  especially  abrupt, 
and  Its  results,  accordingly,  especially  acute,  in  the  case  of 
children  who  go  to  work,  particularly  thbse  who  do  so  at 
fourteen,  the  age  at  which  the  majority  now  leave  school 
and  seek  employment;  but  it  oocnn  in  the  case  of  the  great 
majority  of  modern  workers. 

It  is  true  there  are  still  many  occupations  that  are  widely 
expressive  of  the  human  instincts.  Law  has  much  of  fight 
m  It  In  the  framing  and  delivery  of  arguments  and  in  the 
constant  study  of  underiying  principles  it  U  both  a  great 
science  and  a  great  art,  satisfying  the  instincts  of  creation, 
rhythm,  and  curiosity.  Medicine  and  teaching,  each  Is  Its 
way.  call  for  the  exercise  of  science  in  the  cause  of  nurture. 
AU  the  arts  express  the  rhythmic  and  creative  mstincts. 


4M  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

All  the  sciences  fwtisf  the  instinct  of  curiosity  —alto,  b 
their  true  development,  the  creative  instinct  through  the 
OOMtniction  of  hypotheses.   A  mercantile  career  in  the 
days  wiMB.  k»  fautaaoe,  young  men  in  their  early  twentie 
sailed  out  of  BotUm  In  M  omrad  nf  tbiir  Ikthan'  ship 
with  much  discretion  -iMmmry  b  thoMdayaof  aiHftprival 
teers  and  slow  mails  — over  crew  and  cargo,  was  not  a 
tame  affair  nor  kcking  in  demand  upon  the  manly  qualities. 
And  even  now  there  is  virtue  in  any  kind  of  business  in 
whidi  ride  and  kNKfanhip  are  eombmed.  There  are  still 
vocations  expressive  of  the  great  constHnent  imptUaes  by 
which  we  live.   But  in  the  main,  under  our  industrial  dvili- 
zation,  It  must  with  the  great  majority  be  otherwise.  For 
emy  man  for  whom  there  is  a  place  among  the  expressive 
trades  tbeie  are  ten  for  wliom  no  such  place  exists. 

This  is  the  tragedy  of  dvUisation  —  that  the  end  of  all 
our  labor  and  our  ingenuity  has  been,  for  the  great  majority 
of  men  and  women,  the  defeat  of  that  inner  life  which  it  is 
ou^dwrest  object  to  promote.  Man  is  a  stranger  in  the 
modem  world.  As  encountered  in  hb  daily  work,  it  b  no 
long  r  the  worid  to  which  bis  instbctive  capacities  rcUte. 

And  this  dislocation  of  modem  life  affects  the  preparation 
for  the  less  expressive  occupations  as  weU  as  the  practice  of 
them.  It  makes  impossible  for  the  great  majority  not  only 
the  hvmg  of  a  normal  Ufe  but  the  attainment  of  normal 
growth  during  the  apprentice  years. 

We  may,  if  we  ckooae,  believe  of  a  given  youth  that  he  it 
one  of  the  fortunate  minority  who  will  find  places  among 
the  expressive  callings,  just  as  we  may  believe  that  he  is 
going  to  be  president  of  the  United  States.  But  though  such 
may  be  our  pious  hope  in  any  given  case,  in  the  great  majority 
of  cases  the  hope  must  necessarily  be  dbappointed.  Except 
for  a  smaU  minority  ol  specialists  and  leaders,  modem  in- 


THE  DI8M)CATI0N  OF  CIVILIZED  UFB  487 

dustry  calls  for  machines  and  not  for  men.  OrmtlMritodb 
for  parts  of  machines  -  puUeys,  wheels,  or  cogs -which 
■ome  superviaoiy  inteUigence  is  expected  to  assemble  and 
settowoik.  Ii«Ppo8eftlttvwitrue,a8aristocraqrhasaU 
along  contended,  that  too  maeh  •dtumtfam  actuaQy  mfits  a 
man  for  service  in  the  lower  ranks  ol  iodhis^.  An  adii. 
^ted  slave  may  do  very  well  to  manage  an  estate  for  hia 
R<»«J  mwter  or  teach  his  children  Greek,  but  he  is  not 
wanted  to  the  mffl  or  on  the  cotton  field.  Where  the  hole  is 
very  small  a  nwundied  peg  wffl  not  go  into  it  And  the 

holes  provid«i  m  oiir  modern  todurtry  aw  the  siiirffc»t 

evolved. 

It  is  this  departure  of  industrial  methods  from  the  path 
of  hmnan  hfe  that  has  given  rise  to  the  controversy  over 
cultunl  iwwi,  vocatfcmal  ediicatbn.  Which  shaU  the  boy 
do  cultivate  the  powers  that  are  in  him  or  prepare  for  an 
industrial  pursuit?  Shall  he  train  himself  to  be  a  useful 
member  of  society  at  the  expense  of  abandoning  aU  hope  of 
othw  ^remon  beyond  the  point  attainable  by  an  amateur  • 
or  ahaU  lie  cultivate  ound  and  talent  with  the  n»ult  of  never 

making  good?  n»t  is  the  choice  which  the gr«it  majority 
of  modem  youth  must  face. 

And  it  is  not  merely  a  choice  between  making  a  living 
Md  gaining  a  life;  a  normal  life  is  impossible  either  w7y. 
Not  to  make  good  is  to  leave  out  the  one  most  necessaiy 
element  of  hfe.  To  make  good  fa  a  way  that  satisfies  no 
other  mstinct  is  to  he  but  half  alive.  For  the  great  majority 
these  two  vital  strands  cannot  be  brought  together  in  any 
pattern  they  are  strong  enough  to  weave.  The  evU  for  the 
avei^  boy  of  the  apprentice  a«e  is  not  merely  that  he  wiU 
not  wben  he  grows  up  Kve  a  fuD  human  life,  but  that  he 
never  can  grow  up  at  an.  means  of  acquiring  the  full 
stature  of  humanity  do  not  exirt  m  dther  ol  the  ahemativei 


MICROCOPY  RESOIUTION  TEST  CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


J    /APPLIED  INA^GE  Inc 


438  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

presented.  He  must  either  remain  sodafly  ineffective  cut 
off  from  the  tap-root  of  fulfilled  membership,  or  must  mold 
hunself,  body  and  mind,  upon  an  industrial  system  that  does 
not  conform  to  the  true  image  of  a  man. 

It  is  for  this  reason  that  competition  in  the  professions 
IS  so  mtense.  What  we  mean  by  a  profession  is  what  I  have 
called  an  expressive  calHng.-a  business  which  has  a 
standard  of  its  own,  a  law  other  than  that  of  supply  and 
denuind  which  it  obeys.  A  profession  means  a  survival  of 
true  work,  in  which  the  joy  of  service  b  multiplied  by  the 
joy  of  obedience  to  some  other  law.  Competition  in  the 
professions  is  not  a  scramble  for  dollars  and  cents;  it  is  in 
most  literal  sense  a  fight  for  life. 

The  difficulty  is  not  one  that  can  be  got  over  by  force  of 
wiU.  What  shaU  caU  forth  the  life  and  power  in  a  man  is 
not  given  to  any  man,  nor  to  all  of  us  together,  to  decide. 
That  question  has  been  settled  by  whatever  power  selected 
the  human  qualities  and  their  counterparts.  Physically 
man  is  an  outdoor  animal ;  his  heart  and  lungs  and  nervous 
system  were  made  for  great.and  sudden  exertion,  for  pursuit 
and  flight  and  contest,  alternating  with  repose.  These 
organs  waste  away,  of  .en  become  diseased,  under  the  uncon- 
genial uses  -  or  rather  the  idleness  -  that  we  impose  upon 
them. 

But  sudi  physical  maladjustment  is  the  least  important 
Every  power  of  man,  every  reaction  that  is  given  him  to 
exhibit,  down  to  the  deepest  in  him,  is  relative  to  some 
destined  end.  Every  voice  in  the  human  soul  is  made  re- 
sponsive  to  some  other  voice,  as  King  Richard  lying  in  his 
ceU  recognized  the  music  of  his  faithful  minstrel ;  it  cannot 
answer  to  another  caU. 

We  are  not  strong  for  aU  purposes ;  we  do  not  even  exist 
to  aU  ends.   We  are  strong,  we  are  here  at  all,  only  as  we 


THE  DISLOCATION  OF  CIVILIZED  LIFE  439 

encounter  the  occasion  to  which  our  powers  relate.   Life  is 
not  the  product  of  the  soul  alone,  but  of  the  soul  in  contact 
with  Its  world.    It  is  born  in  the  meeting  of  two  poles. 
The  young  man  may  have  it  in  him  to  love  like  Abelard. 
but  he  wUl  die  passionless  if  his  Heloise  never  appears. 
He  may  have  the  potential  patriotism  of  a  Mazzini,  but  if 
he  IS  a  man  without  a  country  the  light  will  never  shine.  The 
soldier  for  war.  the  mother  to  her  child,  the  painter  to  his 
canvas  -  that  is  life  and  ever  will  be,  take  it  or  leave  it  as 
we  may  elect.   Man  is  a  process,  a  reaction,  a  combining  of 
related  elements.   He  does  not  occur  save  as  the  combina- 
tion that  was  prearranged  takes  place. 

The  deprivation  is  not  of  pleasure  nor  even  wholly  of  the 
satisfaction  of  the  achieving  instincts.   It  affects  the  moral 
nature  also.   Modem  industiy  does  not  call  out  the  higher 
quahties.   It  «  true  of  course  -  and  the  greatest  good  for- 
tune  of  our  modem  world  Ues  m  our  perception  of  the  tmth 
-that  useful  work  cannot  be  positively  d«?grading.   It  is 
probably  true  also  that  a  man  can  even  under  modem  indus- 
toal  conditions  find  use  for  all  the  virtue  that  he  may  possess 
He  can  so  add  up  his  columns  of  figures  that  they  shall 
become  columns  of  strength  and  beauty  in  his  life.   A  man 
If  he  has  a  hero's  soul  can  at  least  die  heroically  under  the 
worst  of  circumstances.   But  conditions  under  wWch  death 
and  renunciation  are  the  best  course  left  open  cannot  be 
considered  satisfactory.    The  same  can  be  said  of  life  in 
prison  or  m  an  insane  asylum -of  any  conceivable  sort  of 
life  whatever. 

The  question  is  not  what  the  hero  wiU  do  if  he  exists  •  the 
young  man  has  a  right  to  such  experience  as  will  bring  out 
the  hero  m  hun.   He  is  not  complete  in  himself,  in  character 

^"^^  '  "°  ^""^^'^         is  or  ever 

wiuoe.   What  he  requires  of  us  is  that  other  half  of  himself 


«0  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

his  world,  to  which  his  moral  as  well  as  his  other  faculties 

T\     A^^.       ^  ^"'^ter.  tying 

threads,  adding  figures  -  whatever  the  happUy  pUced  may 
optimistically  say  about  such  occupations  -  do  not  impend 
tively  call  out  the  latent  powers  of  a  man.  They  sound  no 
trumpet  to  the  soldier  virtues.  When  the  cities  of  Italy 
gave  up  domg  their  fighting  for  themselves,  the  virtue  de- 

parted  from  their  citizens,  and  Hberty  soon  foUowed.  To  the 
eagle  the  best^ppointed  cage  wiU  not  replace  the  free  heavens, 
nor  mil  the  warrior  soul  be  bom  of  office  drudgery.  Social 
conditions  that  do  not  present  that  affirmative  demand  for 
human  virtue  that  nature  intended  and  that  savage  life 
presented  are  not  such  as  we  can  permanently  permit. 

This  break  between  civilization  and  the  normal  life  m- 
volves  for  the  growing  youth  a  shifting  of  ethical  standards, 
the  taking  of  a  crossover  switch  from  one  moral  system  to 
another,  that  is  apt  to  be  disastrous  -  an  evil  that  did  not 
eart  dunng  the  barbaric  age  nor.  for  the  fortunate  classes, 
dunng  the  age  of  chivalry.   The  young  page  was  sent  to 
the  castle  of  some  noted  knight  to  learn  good  behavior  and. 
mUitary  prowess  the  laws  of  courtesy  and  the  law.  of  war. 
l^ere  he  had  before  him  as  examples  the  young  squires  who 
had  already  attamed  some  proficiency  in  these  arts  in  which 
he  hmisdf  was  a  begimier.  When  he  became  a  squire  he 
had  as  bs  model  the  young  knight,  but  a  few  years  his 

Iw  ll^  i:  .  ^  ^'^^^  line  in 

wh^ch  he  had.  from  the  first,  been  aiming,  the  knight  of  high 
achievement  and  reputation,  the  Chevalier  Bayard  or  who- 
ever might  then  be  the  glass  of  fashion  and  the  mold  of 
form.  There  never  came  a  time  in  which  he  had  to  pass 
from  one  set  of  ideals  to  a  veiy  different  aet,  feom  one  wofW 
of  aspiration  to  another. 


THE  DISLOCATION  OF  CIVIU2ED  LIFE  441 

Such  •  tjm.  doe.  come  to  the  modern  boy,  even  of  the 
fortunate  cl^  .„  wh„„  tfc,  „„„  ^idyi^^ZZ  Z 

^  ^'  bright  figure  end,  the  vista  of  hia  dre.^ 
To  im  even  the  moat  fortunate  member  of  our  industrial 
community  the  «,e«»f«l  Uwyer  or  business  man^^^ 

he™  of  the  grown-np  world,  the  raih«rf  p«ad«.t  or  bade, 

the  b«,  appms  to  the  boy,  and  even  to  the  young  college 

street  to  lus  office,  or  occadonaUy  meets  at  his  fate's 
dimier  table.  We  beyond  the  eoU^e  doe,  n<i  ^^^a 
continued  growth,  but  as  dying  and  being  bom 
^nrfenor  plane  of  e^stence.  And  thelLe  thi^  Z 
m  grater  degree  of  the  boy  who  cannot  go  .0  colfege  and 
who  doa  not  encounter  lawyers  and  raihtwd  nre^dents 
•rnong  his  father's  friends.  ""roao  presidents 

wlif  T  "k?  ""'^"O"  '««»  >ouI  that  the 

whole  trouble,  or  <my  essential  part  of  it,  is  with  the  young 
^  and  his  standards,  «,d  that  all  we  have  to  do  is  to 
^ev^r^?r  te-ch  Wm  to  see  things 

s^d  J      T^'.'™™?  «  life 

smMenly  civilized  IS  nothing  n«,  „  whimdeal.  It  is  at 

eas^  as  old  as  Abel  -  the  first  victim,  as  I  take  it.  of  ind,^ 

that  most  of  us  «,  hying,  and  our  young  people  are  takine 
form,  under  condition,  that  the  vaat  m^tj  of^L^d 
W  looked  upon  as  involving  a  disgrace.  It  is 

or  innovation.  It  is  onr  notions,  not  the  y«mg 
man  s,  that  are  abnormal ;  and  it  is  we  accordingly  who  murt 
•kow  c«Be  why  he  d»uld  submit  to  them 

The  yo«nf  m«i'.  revolt  agrinirt  our  industrial  system  is  a 


442  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

moral  revolt,  the  eternal  protest  of  the  manly  mind  against 

.  ^  *  '^^  savage  scorns 

all  civilized  pursuits  as  women's  work.  So  does  the  male  of 
the  barbaric  age.   From  Nimrod  to  Roosevelt,  war  and 
hunting,  the  instinctive  occupations  of  the  gang,  are  those 
most  natural  to  the  kings  of     .n.    The  famous  Persian 
cumculum  was  to  ride  and  shoot  and  speak  the  truth.  A 
free  citizen  of  Greece  may  engage  in  war  or  politics,  but  even 
the  fine  arts  too  anxiously  pursued  are  held  rather  fit  for 
slaves.   The  same  is  true  of  the  upper  ranks  of  European 
society  tOKlay.   In  all  ari  ocracies  war  and  politics  are  the 
only  pumiits  not  held  derogatory,  while  the  only  entireh^ 
respectable  title  to  property  is  that  which  can  be  traced 
back  to  some  form  of  violence.  So,  or  similar,  was  the  code 
m  our  own  South  before  the  war.   So  it  is  now  among  those 
races  m  which  tempera.  ient  still  rises  superior  to  education 
The  pomt  is  that,  in  all  these  cases,  the  objection  to  civilized 
pursmts  IS  ethical.  It  is  not  hard  work,  but  moral  degrada- 
tion  that  is  feared.  Menial  occupations  are  held  by  the 
l^reek  philosophers  inconsistent  with  the  cultivation  of 
virtue  just  as  in  European  society  to^ay  they  are  not  con- 
sidered the  occupations  of  a  gentleman. 

These  are  not  the  ethics  of  snobbishness.  The  snob  takes 
aristocracy  as  he  finds  it:  the  vulgarity  is  in  his  attitude 
toward  ,t,  not  m  the  thing  itself.  The  ethics  of  the  gang,  of 
aristocracy,  are  the  ethics  of  the  agt  of  chivalry,  of  King 
Arthur  and  his  Knights,  of  the  Charlemagne  of  legend  and 
his  peers;  they  are  hitherto  the  code  of  youthful  heroism 
and  romance. 

No  other  occupation  has  yet  supplanted  that  of  soldier 
m  the  popular  imagination,  and  it  is  not  probable  that  any 
occupation  ever  will  do  so  which  does  not  actively  call  out 
the  soldier  qualities.   We  shall  never,  I  think,  learn  to  speak 


THE  DISLOCATION  OF  CIVILIZED  UFE  448 
of  the  Banker  of  the  Lonl.  Walt  Whi^iu,  ^  ^  , 
h^^  for  h«  he«..  It  wa,  a  brave  attempt,  but  JT^ 
««fiil.  atters  may,  obviously,  be  as  heroic  as  any  one- 
but  our  uirtinct,  do  not  reeogm«,  the  heroi-  i„  ,h™  a^"* 
expression  of  their  cjliug;  .„d  thd,  ediing  doe,  Z^^^ 
sanfy  tram  s„eh  qualities.  The  »Idi«  wilf  dwa^lX 

mstmct.   We  are  all  of  us  inevitably  soldiers,  good  or  bad 
b^»e  are  made  that  way,  and  the  attai-i^f  our 
upon  the  development  in  m  of  the  ,oldi« 

paratively  ,„„g„,fiea„t  period  of  time  be«i  »  devoid  of 
tmth  «  we  usually  assume?  Is  the  Indian  so  whol^^ng 
^  to  surrender  the  free  Ufe  of  the  JaTto 

b«»me  the  drudge  of  the  factory  and  the  dweller  "inTcitv 
tenement  f  Was  the  ehivdHc  ideal  d.v«i„n  Z  ove  IS 
war  so  wholly  mistaken  that  the  life  of  .  mill  op,^;t  ^ 

Waa'Zon  ■"/^^'•-«'  «"  "dv.n.ageous'X^u^ 
Wu  the  opimon  of  the  ancient  philosophers  that  virtue  and 
»du,tnd  occupation  were  incompatible  so  far  Jr"y  th« 
we  can  accept  industrial  occuprtion  of  the  narrowe  In  « 
morally  sufficient  in  itself?  " 

Alre^y  there  are  discernible  ^     ,  ^  ^ 

^thatthere  b  something  wrong,  .       „,  ^ 
»leep,  a  half  consaousness  of  our  exiled  state.  It  is  seen  Z 
our  v,e««,u,  inters*  i„  sport,  in  the  way  in  wW^Ta 
ha,red  men  will  p„re  over  the  laat  imaginao-  de^  .1^! 
coming  pri.e  fight,  in  our  fc„tb.ll  h^'^ttl 
fc/  professional  baseball.  We  have  a  hoL^iTi^ 


444 


PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


Further  evklenGe  of  homesickiieBs  is  seen  in  the  grotesque 
expenditures  of  our  millionaires,  in  the  futile  steam  yacht 

which  the  owner  will  be  allowed  to  steer  if  it  is  smooth  and 
there  are  no  reefs  near  —  he  can  hold  the  reins  behind  papa 
a  littJe  while.  It  is  seen  in  the  agonized  palaces,  "  the  pastry 
cook's  nightmare  in  stone  and  stucco"  and  the  like,  that 
adorn  our  cities.  It  is  seen  in  the  paying  of  large  fortunes 
for  celebrated  pictures  —  millions  for  i  example  of  some 
one  else's  play.  It  is  seen  in  our  hel-  monuments  to  the 
unknown  god  of  art  —  in  our  whole .  ..netic  attempt  to  buy 
back  life  and  play,  to  purchase  the  expression  by  others  of 
the  native  impulse  which  we  have  neglected  in  ourselves. 

T  le  young  man's  protest  is  that  of  eternal  youth  inst 
the  fallacy  that  the  world  is  old.  It  is  the  protest  of  the  soul 
of  man,  perpetually  renewed,  against  the  notion  that  social 
conditions  are  fixed,  masters  of  life,  and  not  its  servants. 

It  is  not  primarily  the  young  man,  but  civilisation,  that  is 
on  trial.  Civilization  must  make  out  a  case.  It  must  show 
that  it  has  not  neglected  life  itself  in  its  devotion  to  the 
means  of  living.  It  is  my  own  soul  and  genius  that  it  is 
my  business  to  fulfill.  It  b  the  only  soul  I  have.  If  society 
does  not  offer  what  is  life  to  me,  b  it  not  my  duty  to  rebel  ? 
Civilization  must  show  the  young  man  a  way  of  life  to  which 
he  can  without  degradation  submit,  or  it  cannot  rightly 
hope  for  his  submission. 

Thb,  then,  is  the  moral  situation  as  it  confronts  the  boy 
who  goes  to  work,  or  prepares  for  it.  He  feeb  himself  a 
warrior,  a  hunter,  a  knight,  member  of  a  feUowship  of  such. 
His  imagination  seems  to  remind  him  of  evenings  when  he 
and  his  companions  stole  down  from  the  hills  upon  a  cattle- 
driving  exploit ;  crossed  the  ford  to  rescue  some  Kinmont 
Wme,  or  watched  for  deer.  Is  laying  brick  a  f ulfilhnent  of 


THE  DISLOCATION  OF  CIVIUZED  LIFE  445 

his  dream?  Or  tending  counter,  or  adding  up  cdumns  at 
a  desk?  Can  he  with  self-respect  consent  to  squeeze  his 
life  into  the  strait-jacket  of  such  pursuits,  -  hJs  life  that 
«*ouW  have  been  active  and  brave  and  free.  -  can  he  rightly 
pcraut  It  to  be  cramped  into  such  mean  dimensions,  his 
nature,  hke  the  potter's  hand,  so  pitifully  subdued  unto  its 
calling? 

We  have  here,  in  this  maladjustment  between  man's 
native  ideals  and  the  industrial  situation  as  it  exists,  the 
el«nents  of  a  tragedy  of  that  classic  and  inevitable  kind 
which  consists  not  in  the  defeat  of  a  particular  scheme  of 
ife.  but  m  a  conflict  of  ideab  which  renders  aU  schemes  of 
life  alike  impossible. 


CHAPTER  XLVII 


HOW  TO  RECONCILE  UFl  M  CmUtATKW 

Such  is  the  disease  of  civilization  -  the  denial  to  the  great 
majonty  of  life  in  their  daily  work,  through  the  perfecting 
of  the  moms  of  hving  -  the  substitution  of  utilities  for  ulti- 
mates.  The  «tuation  is  not  one  that  anybody  designed. 
It  has  come  about  as  an  incidenc  of  the  struggle  for  sub- 
sistence  as  carried  on  by  beings  of  a  high  intelligence.    It  has 
been  man  s  own  ingenuity  in  finding  new  and  more  effective 
ways  ^  self^upport  that  has  gradually  edged  him  away 
from  those  primitive  methods  in  the  practice  of  which  the 
chi  dhood  of  the  race  was  passed  and  which  its  instincts 
stiil  remember.    It  is  our  efficiency  in  getting  results  that 
has^tranged  us  from  the  ancient  and  more  satisfying  means. 

What  can  be  done  to  mend  this  dislocation  or  to  mitigate 
Its  effects? 

In  the  past  to  meet  this  diflSculty,  two  successful  systems 
o  life  have  been  worked  out ;  namely,  the  dvic  «,ystem.  as 
Illustrated  m  the  ancient  city  commonwealths  of  which 
Athens  IS  the  type,  and  the  chivalric.   By  systems  of  life  I 
mean  practical  ways  of  living,  based  upon  a  theory  of  how 
people  ought  to  live,  and  illuminated  by  an  ideal.  These 
two  systems  differed  in  many  ways.   The  one  is  ancient, 
the  other  medieval ;  the  one  philosophical,  the  other  re- 
Iigious;  one  bourgeois,  the  other  aristocratic;  one  barbarian, 
the  oth»  dvihzed.   But  different  as  they  were  in  so  many 

m 


UFE  VS.  CIVIUZATION  447 

and  such  important  ways,  they  were  alike  in  one  fundamental 
respect.   Both  were  founded  upon  the  axiom  that  life  and 
industrial  work  are  incompatible.   Both  were  based  upon 
the  division  of  society  into  two  separate  castes,  practically 
into  two  separate  peoples,  those  who  lived  and  those  who 
«lid  the  work  -  the  nobles  and  the  people,  or  the  people  and 
the  slaves.    (The  word  "people"  was  never  applied  to  both.) 
In  both  systems  the  doing  of  useful  work  was  held  degrad- 
ing, incompatible  with  inclusion  among  the  living  caste;  in 
both  the  workers  were  regarded  simply  as  instruments  of 
production,  like  toob  or  cftttle ;  m  neither  did  th^  count  as 
human  beings. 

And  these  systems  were  alike  in  one  other  respect.  In 
both  cases  the  life  of  the  living  caste  was  to  be  secured 
through  play.  In  the  one  case  play  expression  was  found  in 
reversion  to  the  aboriginal  pursuits  of  man.  war  and  hunting. 
These  were  the  occupations  of  a  gentleman.   From  Asur- 
banipal  to  our  modern  lion  hunters,  from  the  time  when 
William  the  Conqueror  drove  the  peasants  from  their  land 
to  make  the  New  Forest,  down  to  the  time  when  John  Bright 
the  plebeian,  finally  wiped  out  the  more  oppressive  featured 
of  the  English  game  laws,  hunting  has  been  the  avocation 
of  the  upper  caste,  while  fighting  has  been  so  much  the 
aristocratic  form  of  industry  that  where  aristocracy  still 
prevails  It  IS  a  disgrace  even  to  this  day  to  own  property 
acquired  by  any  other  means.   To  have  made  a  fortune  in 
trade  or  through  any  other  useful  occupation  sdU  involves 
something  of  disgrace;  to  present  an  unsulUed  title  you 
must  be  able  to  prove  you  stole  it  or  that  it  was  stokm  for 
you  by  your  ancestors. 

The  horse,  as  the  necessary  auxiliary  both  to  the  hunter 
and  the  warrior,  became  the  emblem  of  this  fwm  <rf  dviK- 
«ation.  From  the  time  when  the  mail^  knight,  mounted 


448  PUY  IN  EDUCATION 

on  his  deHrier  or  ww  hone,  lorded  H  over  the  uaamied 

peasants  and  townspeople,  down  to  the  fox  hunter  ol  John 
Leech's  pictures  galloping  across  the  farmers'  fielda,  and  much 
outraged  at  old  Wurxel's  unsportsmanlike  behavior  if  he 
took  measures  to  protect  himself,  it  was  the  long  day  of  the 
man  on  horseback,  known  then  and  since  as  the  age  of 
chivalry  -  the  day  of  the  cabaOui  or  nag's  period 

Chivalry  indeed  included  the  art  of  love-making  along 
with  fighting  and  hunting  as  a  method  of  expression  for  the 
aristocratic  caste,  and  as  a  result  accented  the  secondary 
sexual  instinct  of  dueling  rather  than  of  war  as  the  pr^ 
ferred  outlet  of  the  fighting  instinct. 

The  power  of  the  hunting  instinct  in  an  aristocratic  caste 
IS  seen  m  English  law.   Growing  up  under  the  administra. 
tion  of  successive  generations  of  country  squires,  the  rules 
procedure  and  evidence  were  fashioned  through  the  prob- 
•ibly  unconscious  operation  of  this  instinct  to  produce  an 
interesting  form  of  sport  --  in  criminal  cases  a  real  hunt  in 
which  the  defendant  was  the  quarry.   Under  simple  rules 
such  as  people  interested  merely  in  the  practical  aspects  of 
the  matter  might  adopt,  with  no  limitations  on  the  right 
and  obligation  to  testify,  it  mi|^t  often  happen  that  any- 
body could  get  at  the  truth;  the  true  sport  consisted  m 
giving  the  criminal  a  chance  and  then  seeing  if  you  could 
catch  him.   The  hunting  expression  of  "giving  the  fox  his 
law  indicates  the  extension  to  the  hunting  field  of  the  prin- 
ciples devebped  in  the  more  ehOwrated  form  of  sport. 
Jeremy  Bentham.  utter  utilitarian  as  he  was,  wholly  uncon- 
scious of  the  sporting  point  of  view,  by  his  cold-blooded 
attacks  did  for  English  law  what  Bright  had  already  done 
for  hunting  and  shooting,  and  so  narrowed  still  further  the 
new  for  the  expression  of  this  instinct. 
The  ancient  or  dvic  systan,  unlike  the  aristocratic,  sought 


UFE  V8.  avILIZATION  449 

theplay  expression  of  the  living  caste  not  in  reversion  to  the 
•bongind  occupations  of  war  and  hunting  that  had  pre- 
c«W  mdustridism,  but  in  going  beyond  the  latter  stage  and 
creating  new  forms  of  play.  In  piOiitlag,  «mlpture.  archi- 
tec  ure  ;  m  music,  poetry,  dancing ;  in  the  dnun.,  in  sdenee 
and  philosophy  -  in  the  c  uiti vated  expression  of  the  instinctt 
of  rhj-thm,  creation  and  curiosity  -  and  in  the  appreciation 
•nd  discusnor.  of  these,  the  free  citizens  of  Athens,  for  in- 
stance,  reached  what  I.  stiD  at  mort  points  the  world  's  high- 
water  mark.  • 

In  both  of  these  sy.tems  war  and  politics -the  internal 
and  external  expression  of  the  gang  -  held  a  leading  phuie. 

The  gR»t  thing  to  be  noted  about  these  two  systems  - 
at  least  the  toteresting  thing  for  us.  a.  bearing  00  the  question 
of  how  to  reconcile  life  and  industrial  civilisation  -  it  that 

they  succeeded.   Whatever  we  may  say  of  their  cruelty, 
brutality  egotism,  or  other  shortcomings,  they  did  actually 
perform  for  the  nch  man  the  supreme  service  t»>at  he  in- 
stinctively rather  than  consciously,  sought  frc    them  in 
that  they  preserved  his  soul  alive.  His  relegat      of  the 
drudgery  of  industrial  labor  to  slave  or  serf.  a..d  reservation 
to  hunself  of  the  expressions,  bftrbarous  -  artistic,  of  the 
ffj«t  constituting  human  instim    vas  juitiP^  in  the  result. 
The  anaent  system,  broadly  based  upon  the  instincts  of 
creation  rhythm,  curiosity,  fighting,  patriotism,  produced, 
especiaUy  m  the  iEgean  archipelago. 

Where  grew  the  arts  of  war  and  pcaos, 
Where  Deloe  roae  and  Phoebua  sprung, 

an  unparalleled  exuberance  of  mental  and  spiritual  life  If 
ever  any  group  of  people  truly  lived,  it  was  the  free  citizaB 
Of  Athens  durmg  her  great  century.  So  fully  did  Athens 


450  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

live  that  it  is  largely  the  pulses  of  her  life,  coming  to  us  across 
the  centuries,  that  supply  what  is  most  alive  in  us  to-day 

^stocracy.  indeed,  with  its  harp  of  three  strings,  could 
hardly  produce  a  similarly  rich  result.  But  it  afanost  made 
up  m  degree  for  what  it  lacked  in  kind.  Aristocracy  peo- 
duced  the  gentleman.  Corn-age,  personal  dignity -the 
barbaric  virtues,  essentials  of  the  manly  character  in  every 
age -  It  did  attain,  and  added  to  these  the  ideals  of  service 
and  of  at  least  a  theoretical  respect  tor  women 

And  when  in  the  Italian  Cinque  Cento  and  the  golden 
Elizabethan  age  of  England,  an  ideal  was  formed  combining 
the  elements  of  both  systems,  and  the  complete  title  of 
gentleman  and  scholar  -  greeting  a  combination  of  elements 
that  to  a  generation  earlier  would  have  seemed  incredible  - 
was  iHustrated  by  such  men  as  Pico  deUa  Mirandola  and 
bir  i^Mip  Sidney,  the  product  was  as  bright  and  beautiful 
a  figure  as  any  age  has  seen.   Sir  Philip  Sidney,  indeed,  in 
his  death,  giving  the  water  brought  for  him  to  the  wounded 
conunon  soldier,  anticipated  that  more  modern  type  of  hero 
who  includes  a  universal  human  sympathy,  the  ideal  of  the 
nurturing  instinct,  among  his  attributes. 

These  two  old  systems  succeeded  where  they  were  intended 
to  succeed -in  saving  the  Hves  of  those  who  built  them 
up.    1  hey  also,  as  a  necessary  incident,  brought  to  the  sub- 
merged majority  the  spuitual  death  they  contemplated. 
1  he  most  pitiful  circumstance  in  the  world's  story  is  that  the 
unfortunate  have  not  merely  outwardly  but  really  suflfered. 
have  lost  not  only  happiness  but  life.   It  is  not  true  that 
slavery  was -at  least  until  very  modern  and  enlightened 
tunes -worse  for  the  master  than  for  the  slave.   It  shut 
the  master  out  from  certain  sources  of  life  that  we  have 
learned  to  value;  but  it  shut  the  slave  out  from  all  the 
natural  sources  so  completely  that  continued  physical  esdst- 


UFE  VS.  CIVILIZATION 


451 

ence  almost  necessarily  implied  his  spiritual  death.  The 
long  story  -  or  rather  the  long  and  ghastly  silence  -  of  the 
«ntun«  of  slavery  is  one  more  proof  that  human  life  is  so 
wrapped  up  m  the  mstmcts  that  form  the  child  through  play 
that  where  these  are  denied  their  scope  life  «bo  is  shut  out. 

Pn^r     I  """"^  ^"^^  *°       An  ^p,  an 

h^H^'V  fj^'S'"'' has  uttered  a  blessing  or  a  curse  that 

h^H^**"  1.®"*  "^o^  nothing, 

hardly  a  shriek,  has  reached  the  outer  air. 

One  other  essential  thing  to  be  noted  about  these  two 

^Tir  J^"  T^^'"^  ^^^''^^tio"  -  ancient 

and  the  medieval -,s  that,  whether  taken  separately  or  in 
combmation.  they  are  not  for  us,  nor  any  system  that  in- 
clud«  or  tolerates  the  division  of  society  into  a  living  and  a 
working  caste.  The  peat  fallacy  which,  taking  the  truth 
that  division  of  function  leads  to  fullness  of  life,  uses  that 
truth  as  a  support  for  the  position  that  life  itself  is  a  fit 
sub,«^  for  specialization,  and  can  properly  be  assigned  to 
an  ^elusive  c«te,  «  one  that  will  not  deceive  us  any  more. 
Solutions  based  upon  that  «,ci«it  error  are  now  not  merely 
wrong;  they  have  become  impossible.   Once  awakened  to 
the  requirement  of  our  own  nature  that  we  regard  the  spiritual 
oZ!l     °Jf^J^P'«'  ^«        never  again  attain  life  for 
ou^Iv«  whle  denying  it  to  any  other.   The  attempt  would 
m  us  not  merely  leave  out  astrand  of  human  life,  but  would 
estabhsh  a  conscious  lack,  a  pain  and  discord  spoiling  all 
the  rest.   Moreover,  thanks  to  democracy,  we  now  see 
o  her  people  not  merely  as  creatures  like  ourselves,  and  as 
su^  equally  to  be  regarded,  but  as  belonging  to  ;ur  own 
t««n    They  are  comrades,  members  of  the  family,  part  of 
ourselves,  communicants  in  the  common  personahty  in 
which  we  share.   And  we  do  not  intend,  in m^u^sL^t 
we  come  into,  that  they  shall  be  left  out.  ""«™n^ 


452 


PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


These  former  systems,  even  the  composite  ideal  <^  the 
two  combined,  can  no  longer  serve  our  turn.  The  iu>oblem 
of  democracy  is  the  problem  of  finding  some  way  in  which 
not  an  exclusive  caste,  but  all  men,  can  live.  No  plan  by 
which  a  part  of  the  people  are  shut  out  from  all  hope  of  life 
can  ever  again  be  ours.  We  can  tolerate  no  division,  con- 
template no  possibility  of  an  excluded  caste.  What  then 
can  we  do  to  lessen,  not  merely  for  a  class,  but  for  all  the 
people,  this  break  between  the  way  of  industry  and  the  way 
of  life? 

There  are  in  general  three  things  that  we  can  do:  fit 
our  boys  and  girls  to  the  industrial  world  as  it  exists,  fit  the 
industrial  world  to  human  nature,  aud  provide  an  overflow. 

By  the  first  of  these  I  do  not  mean  lopping  the  child's 
nature  down  to  fit  the  bed  we  have  made  for  it,  but  so  bend- 
ing it  that,  if  possible,  it  may  still  grow  under  the  unavoid- 
able conditions,  our  aim  being  not  efficiency  but  integrity, 
not  increasing  industrial  output  but  promoting  life. 

Under  this  first  head  of  fitting  the  child  to  the  world,  the 
first  thing  to  do  is  to  cease  to  unfit  him,  to  permit  the  powers 
that  underlie  industrial  pursuits  free  opportunity  to  develop. 
Man  as  nature  made  him  is  a  great  deal  more  of  an  indus- 
trial being  than  our  modem  education  has  rec<^zed.  The 
instincts  especially  aimed  toward  useful  labor  are  at  present 
systematically  starved.  The  creative  instinct  which  impels 
little  children  to  make  houses  and  mud  pies,  small  girls  to 
sew,  and  small  boys  to  work  with  tools  —  which,  if  we  did  not 
lock  up  the  materiab  from  the  child,  or  the  child  in  school 
away  from  the  materials,  would  drill  the  maker  in  him  — 
has  insufficient  opportunity  to  act.  The  nurturing  instinct 
that  makes  every  little  girl  a  nurse,  impels  every  child  to 
care  for  plants  and  pets,  makes  him  love  to  tend  the  horse, 
to  feed  the  pigs,  to  milk  the  cow,  which  if  allowed  its  natural 


LIFE  VS.  CIVILIZATION 


453 


scope  would  make  him  for  all  purp<»es  a  teacher  and  a 
fosterer  of  life  —  this  mother  instinct  we  also  partly  sterilize 
by  permitting  but  meager  opportunity  for  its  expression. 
The  rhythmic  instinct  that  sets  every  phrase  and  motion  of 
early  childhood  to  music,  and  would  do  the  same  by  all 
mechanical  drudgery  of  grown-up  life,  is  only  now  beginning 
to  regain,  through  singing  and  dancing  and  drawing,  its 
normal  place  in  education.  Even  the  scientific  impulse, 
which  we  do  cultivate,  we  limit  to  such  feeble  methods  of 
expression  as  afford  but  a  nerveless  training  compared  to 
what  it  naturally  exacts.  Instead  of  the  exhilarating  course 
that  it  would  normally  have  conducted  in  exploring,  inves- 
tigating, classifying  concrete  phenomena,  we  confine  it  almost 
entirely  to  abstract  problems,  largely  in  grammar  and  arith- 
metic. And  even  in  these  we  mostly  supply  the  solution 
ourselves  and  ask  the  child  to  learn  it,  thus  resterilizing  our 
urriculum  alr^y  sterile  of  methods  api^icable  to  produc- 
tive life. 

Man  is  an  artificer  by  nature,  as  also  a  doctor,  nurse, 
teacher,  investigator  —  a  plodder  even.  It  is  by  shutting 
the  door  on  natiu*e  that  we  make  a  barbarian  of  him  in  these 
respects.  Our  children  are  far  less  prepared  for  the  indus* 
trial  part  of  life  than  can  be  the  case  in  any  savage  tribe. 
To  make  small  spears  and  bows,  and  use  them,  to  help  grown 
people  in  the  hundred  necessary  domestic  arts,  is  a  far  better 
preparation  in  this  direction  than  any  that  our  schools 
afford  or  leave  time  for.  In  our  civilized  life  the  civilized, 
productive,  side  of  the  child's  nature  is,  for  the  first  time  in 
history,  very  nearly  starved. 

I  am  not  one  of  those  who  think  that  even  our  present 
schools  are  upon  the  whole  an  evil.  The  training  they  give 
for  sodal  and  intellectual  life,  through  language  and  arith- 
metic and  habits  of  r^ularity  and  ofder,  auae  than  makes 


454  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


up  for  the  industrial  inaptitudes  they  cause.  But  they  do 
cause  such  inaptitudes,  and  in  the  most  wanton  and  un- 
necessary way,  by  neglecting  the  industrial  faculties,  while 
taking  up  the  time  in  which  these,  if  we  let  the  child  alone, 
would  be  developed  mider  the  direction  of  his  native 
instincts. 

What  I  am  advocating  in  this  first  proposition  is  not 
definite  industrial  training,  certainly  not  specialization,  but, 
on  the  contrary,  the  all-round  cultivation  of  the  child.  I 
would  advocate  the  same  even  if  it  had  no  bearing  on  indus- 
trial life;  for  I  believe  that  up  to  the  age  of  adolescence 
the  child's  business  is  to  grow,  not  to  prepare  for  a  vocation, 
but  to  become  a  man.  What  I  desire  to  point  out  is  that 
when  we  do  provide  an  all-round  education,  we  shall  release 
in  our  children  industrial  powers  which  we  now  deliberately 
starve ;  shall  cease  to  train  them  away  from  the  serviceable 
life  that  nature  intended  them  to  lead.  I  agree  absolutely 
with  those  who  up^  M  culture  rather  than  direct  prepara- 
tion for  practical  life  as  the  true  aim  of  primary  education. 
I  disae^  only  with  the  bdief  held  by  some  of  them  that 
culture  of  the  human  being  consists  in  developing  only  one 
corner  of  his  nature,  and  even  that  in  a  peculiarly  passive 
and  ineffective  way,  and  in  thus  incidentally  unfitting  him 
for  useful  life. 

When  by  truly  all-round  education  we  shall  have  restored 
to  our  children  those  strands  of  life  that  are  now  starved 
out  of  them,  we  shall  find  them  possessed  of  a  nature  that  it 
is  not  so  easy  to  defeat,  '^'.e  first  choice  or  preferred  expres- 
sion of  the  boy's  life  will  still  be  toward  war  and  foray,  and 
there  will  still  be  a  real  spiritual  loss  from  insufficient  oppor- 
tunity in  these  directions.  But  he  will  then  have  a  strong 
second  choice  to  fall  back  upon. 


LIFE  VS.  CIVILIZATION  455 


And  a  second  choice  is  with  Dame  Nature  a  vitally  im- 
portant thing.    It  is  true  that  the  old  theory  of  the  general 

applicability  of  human  force  is  untenable.  Man  power  is 
not  steam  power,  to  be  twned  on  to  a  guillotine  or  a  church 
organ  impartially.  It  must  act  toward  its  prescribed  ends 
or  not  at  all.  But  it  is  also  true  that  human  nature  has 
more  than  one  end  toward  which  it  moves ;  and  (a  crucial 
point  in  this  matter)  there  is  in  living  things  a  wonderful 
power  of  substitution ;  life  that  cannot  find  its  way  by  one 
channel  will  often  make  out  marvelously  well  by  another. 
If  the  top  of  a  spruce  tree  is  cut  -7^,  it  will  use  one  of  its 
higher  branches  to  carry  out  its  natural  spire  form.  Men 
learn,  if  necessary,  to  see  with  their  ears  or  hear  with  their 
sense  of  touch.  Conversely,  if  a  strain  is  put  upon  one  part 
of  the  human  organism,  as  on  the  legs  or  eyes,  power  will  be 
transferred  from  the  rest,  and  the  member  under  fire,  es- 
pecially the  brain  itself  in  which  the  life  is  focused,  will  not 
be  permitted  to  succumb  until  the  resources  of  the  whdle 
have  been  exhausted. 

And  so  with  the  total  expansion  of  the  vital  force.  If  a 
preferred  method  is  denied,  it  will  find  issue  through  such 
channeb  as  remain.  The  genius  that  would  havf  made  war 
its  medium  will  force  its  way  in  business.  A  life  denied 
utterance  in  music  may  find  it  in  science  or  through  the 
nurturing  instinct.  Just  as  the  flavor  (  f  perse -^ality  hes  in 
things  too  subtle  to  depend  upon  the  road  it  travels  by,  so 
the  total  genius  o$  the  man  will  often  arrive  so  long  as  any 
of  the  nuun  instinctive  issues  are  left  open  to  it. 

And  each  major  instinct  has  so  permeated  our  nature 
that  it  is  capable  of  a  great  variety  of  statement.  I  aiiuded, 
in  an  earlier  chapter,  to  the  artist,  familiar  to  frequenters  of 
European  galleries,  who  painted  with  his  toes.  The  pre- 
hensile and  manipulating  instincts  evidently  lie  deep»  than 


PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


the  separation  of  the  paths  which  lead  to  the  hands  and  feet 
respectively.  The  creative  impulse  lies  deeper  stil),  and 
appears  under  a  vast  variety  of  forms.  Man  will  build  ir 
sounds  or  thought  or  rhythmic  movement.  Sir  Henry  Maine 
saya  that  the  Roman. law  —  the  great  piactical  system  of 
dealing  between  man  and  man  that  has  survived  the  test 
of  centuries  and  nations  —  owes  the  universal  charactn 
which  has  given  it  currency  to  the  Greek  sense  of  form, 
derived  by  the  Roman  praetors  from  the  Stoic  philosophy. 
This  most  colossal  of  the  works  of  common  sense  is,  in  its  pe- 
culiar excellence,  one  of  the  world's  great  monuments  of  plastic 
art.    Evidently  the  creative  instinct  is  not  easy  to  defeat. 

So  the  nurturing  instinct,  sprung  originally  from  moth-r 
love,  has  worked  back  from  that  first  utterance  to  such  a 
depth  that  it  appears  again  not  only  in  teachers,  niu^es, 
doctors,  fanners,  but  in  molders  of  men  in  every  sort  of 
occupation. 

Among  them  the  outputting  human  instincts  cover  so 
vast  a  territory  that  it  is  difficult  to  invent  a  form  of  occu- 
pation that  shall  be  wholly  outside  their  scope.  Even  the 
hunting  and  fighting  instincts  are  not  wholly  disappointed 
in  modem  industry.  Etymology  seldom  lies,  and  thwe 
must  be  some  reminiscence  of  the  chase  in  anything  named 
"pursuit."  I  recently  looked  up  a  quotation  in  Herodotus, 
and  the  sort  of  breathless  sensation  of  following  up  and 
finally  seizing  on  the  game  was  not  distinguishable  from  what 
I  experienced  a  few  weeks  later  in  the  pursuit  of  trout.  As 
to  the  fighting  instinct,  nature's  magnificent  blanket  clause 
applying  to  opposition  from  whatever  source,  some  use  of 
this,  though  not  usually  in  its  aboriginal  form,  is  absolutely 
certain  to  come  in. 

To  consciously  make  anything,  to  wield  or  handle  or  con- 
trol ;  to  seek,  classify,  arrange ;  to  hunt,  nourish,  co6pa«te 


LIFE  VS.  CIVILIZATION  457 


—  what  possible  occupation  ;s  wholly  outside  of  these? 
What  artisan,  farmer,  sailor,  tender  of  a  machine,  does  the 
small  boy  not  envy?  Men  will  nurse  an  institution  or  a 
cause,  hunt  gold  or  Greek  roots  or  microbes  or  chase  a  rain- 
bow, belong  to  countrj',  firm,  club,  Mtvsonic  Order,  or  sewing 
circle.  So  diffused  are  these  root  i  jpulses  that  hardly  any 
form  of  activity  is  wholly  outside  of  their  illumination. 
Applicable  to  very  drudgery  as  such  there  is,  as  we  have 
swd,  the  rhythmic  instinct  —  savior  of  generations  of 
rowers  and  runners,  of  spinners  and  knitters  in  the  sua,  by 
setting  their  monotony  to  a  lullaby. 

And  the  instincts  are  not  only  broad-bas-d :  the  center 
of  them  is  always  on  achievement,  on  getting  the  thing  done. 
Nature  is  of  a  very  practical  disposition.   The  essence  of  her 
message  is  always,  as  I  have  said,  " Thou  shalt  arrive."  Not 
to  wrestle  and  strike,  but  to  conquer;  not  to  run  and  throw 
and  lie  in  wait,  but  to  bag  the  game,  is  the  command  on  which 
her  stress  is  laid.    Complete  satisfaction  indeed  is  only  where 
the  instinctive  end  is  gained  by  instinct."  -e  means.  But 
where  the  choice  is  between  means  and  end  it  is  always  the 
end  that  rules.   In  the  prospect  of  grown-up  achievement 
especially,  her  most  cherished  end  —  what  she  whispers  is  the 
real  quarry  —  comes  in  sight ;  and  the  weight  and  passion  of 
every  achieving  instinct  bids  the  child  follow  wheresoever 
the  chase  may  lead.   Nature  is  no  pedant.  Contempo- 
raneousness is  of  the  essence  of  her  law.   Up-to-date  infrac- 
tion is  moregermane  to  her  intention  than  obsolete  fulfilhnent. 
There  is  more  real  life  in  making  an  actual  living  by  tending 
counter  than  in  pious  adherence  to  the  ancient  ritual  through 
breaking  and  entering,  raiding  apple  stands,  or  becoming 
a  gentleman  sport. 

So  that  the  very  instmcts  themselves  are,  in  one  way,  on 
the  side  of  the  chikl's  submission  to  whatever  actual  condi- 


458  FLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


tions  may  impose.  They  will  rather  pull  him  cros»-Iots  to 
the  end  than  take  him  round  by  the  road  that  has  ceased  to 
lead  there. 

When  the  immediate  and  visible  occupation  mi|^t  (rf  it- 
self seem  wholly  desiccated,  it  is  often  floated  by  the  end  it 

serves.  Just  as,  in  those  ancient  and  heroic  gorges  in  which 
you  and  your  friend  ate  your  way  through  the  blueberry 
swamp  and  out  the  other  side,  the  picking  of  the  berries  — 
which  would  of  itself  have  been  drudgery  if  you  had  been 
picking  a  boxful  for  the  family  —  became  fused  into  the  one 
cerulean  glory  that  colored  the  entire  proceeding ;  so  in  many 
other  pursuits  of  life  the  himian  capacity  of  looking  to  the 
end,  and  seeing  the  process  of  attainment  in  the  light  of  it, 
converts  what  would  otherwise  have  been  drudgery  into  an 
experience  full  of  interest  and  delight.  It  is,  indeed,  impos- 
sible by  merely  looking  at  any  man  at  work  to  tell  what  he  is 
really  doing.  Two  men  are  working  side  by  side  at  the  same 
bench.  To  the  one  the  tune  he  works  to  —  what  he  is  really 
doing  —  is  buying  his  wife  a  new  dress  or  paying  off  the 
mortgage  on  the  house :  to  the  other,  it  b  next  Saturday's 
spree.  Or  to  one  it  b  aome  jvoject  for  the  emancipation  of 
the  working  class,  and  to  the  other  just  grind,  grind,  grind. 
They  make  the  same  motions,  produce  to  the  ear  the  same 
sound,  but  one  may  be  driving  the  nails  in  his  own  coffin, 
the  other  building  the  new  Jerusalem.  To  one  life  may  be 
drudge,  to  the  other  a  triumphal  march.  So  in  all  kinds 
of  human  action  the  end  swallows  the  means ;  the  color  runs ; 
the  two  things,  the  purpose  and  the  motions  made  in  serving 
it,  cannot  be  kept  apart. 

Indeed  so  important  to  our  race,  so  necessary  to  its  health 
and  happiness,  b  the  satisfaction  of  accomplishment,  that 
any  form  of  activity  which  secures  results,  however  insig- 
nificant, brings  some  reward.  Almost  the  greatest  pimisb- 


UFB  VS.  CIVILIZATION 


4W 


ment  that  am  be  inflicted  on  a  human  being  is  deprivation 
of  opportunity  for  action;  the  worst  drudgery  ever  invented 

is  as  nothing  compared  to  that.  The  only  thoroughly  re- 
liable sources  of  boredom  are  to  be  found  in  what  may  be 
called  the  three  Is :  Idleness,  Idiocy,  and  Interruption.  To 
do  nothing,  to  be  permitted  to  do  only  what  has  no  meaning 
—  as  for  mstance  in  the  study  of  formal  grammar  by  chil- 
dren in  the  elementary  schools  — or,  when  you  have  got 
*  iterested  in  one  thing,  to  be  dug  up  by  the  roots  and  made 
to  do  something  else :  these  are  the  only  sure  receipts  for 
producing  a  perfect  and  complete  distaste.  So  far  must  we 
flee  wholly  to  escape  our  birthright  as  active  beings. 

And,  in  particular,  the  belonging  instinct  —  the  prescriber 
of  vocation  as  the  necessary  way  of  making  good  —  places 
its  accent  not  on  the  means  but  on  the  end.  The  gang  finds 
its  most  natural  expression  in  raid  and  foray ;  but  under  all 
is  the  central  desbe  to  b?long.  That  there  shall  be  a  gang, 
not  that  it  shall  do  particuhur  things,  was  nature's  dearest 
object  in  laying  the  foundation  of  this  instinct.  And  as 
belonging,  not  the  form  of  it,  is  the  heart  of  his  desire,  so  will 
the  boy  hold  to  real  membership,  under  real  conditions  as 
they  exist,  in  preference  to  the  observance  of  any  form  of 
membership  from  which  the  vbtue  of  actuality  has  escaped. 
What  he  wants  is  really  to  belong,  to  be  tn  t(  m  the  grown-up 
world,  to  assume  the  toga  mrilis,  be  admitted  into  the  fellow- 
ship and  councils,  share  the  responsibilities  and  undertak- 
ings, of  the  clan.  He  would  desire  that  such  fellowship 
should  express  itself  under  the  form  of  raid  and  foray  if  it 
could  be  so,  but  as  between  form  and  substance  it  n  the  sub- 
stance every  time  that  he  will  choose. 

And  as  he  comes  to  appreciate  the  fact  that  making  good 
in  the  grown-up  world  involves  industrial  efficiency  —  that 
the  game  now  is  the  industrial  game,  and  that  the  indus- 


460  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

» 

trially  incompetent  are  not  reftUy  in  it  —  it  is  the  gang  in- 

ttinct  itself  that  impels  him  to  the  acquiring  of  such  efficiency 
more  strongly  than  any  other  force  could  do.  He  will  feel 
it  to  be  a  pity  that  we  cannot  all  be  knights  and  hunters, 
but  given  the  impossibility  of  being  such  in  earnest,  he  sees 
that  there  is  more  of  real  life  in  tending  to  bunness  in  our 
beian  way  than  in  playing  at  Johnny  War  after  the  fashion 
of  aristocratic  survivals.  Verily  the  first  commandment  of 
the  gang  spirit,  as  of  the  code  of  manliness  in  all  ages,  is: 
"Thou  shalt  play  the  game." 

It  is  at  this  age  that  boys  begin  to  practice  thdr  team  games 
in  ways  that  are  far  from  amusing,  for  the  sake  of  ulterior 
results,  and  it  is  the  team  instinct  that  in  the  main  must 
carry  them  through  the  drudgery  that  the  acquiring  of  in- 
dustrial efficiency  involves.  It  is  here,  in  the  apprentice 
motive,  that  the  cros»4ots  power  of  instinctive  impulse  is 
at  its  full  strength.  The  end  is  now  the  distant  one  <rf  the 
total  accomplishment  of  a  life,  and  the  desire  is  propi^onal 
to  the  desert  space  that  lies  between. 

It  is,  in  short,  the  gang  that  must  drive  out  the  gang, 
through  the  boy's  perception  that  the  old  gang  occupations 
are  child's  play,  and  not  c'  s  work  of  life  —  that  the  gang,  in 
short,  is  not  the  real  gang,  but  its  kmdergarten. 

The  next  thing  we  must  do  after  preserving  the  whole 
nature  of  the  child  alive  up  to  the  age  of  adolescence  is  to 
turn  his  nature  thia  preserved  in  the  direction  of  some  kind 
of  work.  Remember  the  case  of  the  chicken,  who  will  learn 
to  follow  ai.y  creature  that  walks  before  it  during  the  period 
when  its  following  instinct  acts  (the  chicken's  apprentice 
age)  but  will  not  so  learn  when  that  brief  period  is  passed. 
Remember  that  plasticity  and  the  passion  to  make  good  are 
not  brought  togetha  in  the  growing  youth  for  nothing*  that 


UFE  VS.  CIVILIZATION 


461 


their  conjunction  will  last  but  a  few  yean,  and  that  now  or 

never  is  the  time  to  precipitate  the  achieving  instincts  up<m 
the  particular  form  of  utterance  that  is  most  open  to  them  in 
the  existing  world.  Let  his  future  calling  walk  before  the 
child  ib  the  apprentice  age  that  he  may  follow  it  when  he 
grows  up. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  train  at  once  for  any  special  trade; 
the  immediate  task  may  be  to  prepai-e  for  the  university, 
deferring  specific  vocational  training  for  another  eight  years. 
What  »  necessary  u  that  education  from  this  time  on  shall 
have  a  future  to  it,  shall  be  felt  by  the  child  as  preparatkm 
for  real  life. 

Our  first  remedy  then  is  so  to  develop  the  child's  nature 
to  its  natural  breadth,  and  so  to  train  it  during  the  period 
when  it  is  still  malleable,  and  when  the  gang  instinct 
c<»nbines  with  the  specializing  tendency  to  set  him  upon 
fitting  h."-  iself  for  grown-up  work,  that  it  may  be  turned  so 
far  as  possible  toward  the  channels  that  existing  industry 
affords.  This  we  shall  do  not  for  the  sake  of  industry  but 
for  the  sake  of  culture;  not  in  order  that  the  man  shall 
make  more  goods,  but  that  the  making  of  the  goods  may 
better  make  the  man. 


But,  do  our  best  in  fitting  our  children  to  oiu*  world,  and 
granting  all  that  can  be  said  of  the  adaptability  of  human 
nature,  there  is  muf^h  else  to  be  done  before  an  opportimity 
to  lead  a  truly  human  life  will  odst  for  the  great  majority. 

Our  second  remedy  must  be  to  do  far  more  than  we  have 
ever  dreamed  of  doing  to  make  our  methods  of  industry 
fit  the  normal  life.  It  will  be  difficult  to  do  much  in  this 
way,  and  what  we  do  accomplish  may  lessen  om*  material 
output.  But  this  latter  consideration  is  not  so  impwtant 
as  we  are  apt  to  think.  What  b  the  use  of  more  clothes,  or 


m  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


evcu  more  beautiful  ones,  if  we  have  no  bodies  fit  to  put  them 
on?  I  remember  reading  the  remark  of  an  economist,  from 
whote  mind  the  btentkm  to  be  funny  was  as  far  as  possible 
r«mov«d,  thftt  the  happineaa  of  the  irariw  waa  ft  food  things 
as  it  tended  to  increase  productkm.  We  mutt  kam  to  turn 
this  argument  right  side  up.  And  we  must  learn  especially 
that  under  normal  conditions  the  largest  dividend  from  work 
is  in  the  joy  of  doing  it.  In  this  form  of  return  lies  the  great 
undeveh^Md  resource  of  every  country. 

There  are  three  principal  methods  in  which  this  portion  of 
our  spiritual  revenue  can  be  increased :  first,  by  the  adoption, 
in  the  few  cases  where  it  may  be  possible,  of  Ruskin's  advice 
that  industry  shall  be  made  more  expressive  of  the  creative 
instinct ;  second,  by  restoring  so  far  as  nuiy  be  the  dement 
of  competition,  expresrive  ai  the  fighting  instinct  and  61  the 
desu-e  of  every  man  to  carve  out  his  own  life  in  his  own  way ; 
and  third,  by  the  greater  introduction,  through  industrial 
cooperation  and  by  responsibility-sharing,  of  the  element  of 
team  play.  When  the  woricer  can  feel  that  the  factory  is  his 
team  and  its  trade-mark  is  his  flag,  that  he  shnres  the  per- 
sonality embodied  in  its  product,  there  will  come  new  life 
both  to  him  and  to  the  industry,  and  incidentally  a  degree  of 
material  success  of  which  we  have  not  yet  dreamed.  Those 
who  say  ctanpetition  and  cooperation  are  incompatible  should 
go  and  see  a  football  game.  Man  b  mainly  the  product  al 
these  two  ingredients. 

These  ways  of  fitting  the  child  to  his  work  and  his  work  to 
him  are  of  vital  consequence  because  to  attain  full  life  it  is 
essential,  as  already  stated,  not  only  that  we  both  make  good 
and  find  stnae  other  f<nm  instinctive  expression,  but  that 
we  find  the  two  in  combi*"^tion.  In  the  game  of  life,  as  in 
every  other,  the  elements  of  satisfaction  should  be  not  merely 
added  but  multiplied  together.  The  occupation  in  which 


UFE  V8.  CIVILIZATION  468 


you  find  expression  of  the  creative  or  other  instincts  besides 
membership  must  be  that  through  which  you  also  make  good 
as  a  member  of  society  —  must  be  your  worlc  and  not  your 
avocation  —  if  your  life  is  to  reach  its  highest  mark. 

But  even  wben  we  have  d<me  our  bat  to  tndn  the  chOd'a 
nature  toward  modem  industry  and  to  conform  our  industry 
to  the  eternal  hwnan  nature  in  the  child,  there  will  still  be 
many  occupations  in  which  the  best  part  of  the  worker's 
nature  will  remain  unfulfilled,  into  which  we  should  be  loath 
to  find  that  any  of  our  children  could  be  completely  packed. 
Our  quart  of  holy  sinrit  wiU  not  go  into  the  pint  meMure  we 
have  prepared  for  it  or  any  foreseMUe  enlnqgement  thcnof. 
If  we  do  not  wish  a  great  part  of  it  to  run  to  WMte,  we  must 
provide  an  overflow. 


CHAPTER  XLVIII 


THE  OVERFLOW 

The  remedy  for  the  inevitable  imperfection  of  any  adjust- 
ment between  human  nature  and  our  industrial  system  that 
we  can  hope  to  make  is  not  in  a  return  to  barbarism,  with  its 
twin  resources  of  fighting  and  the  chase.  When  Charles 
Lamb  coul '  ask  of  a  man  whom  he  met  carrying  a  hare  from 
the  direction  of  his  own  game  preserves :  "  Is  that  your  own 
hair  or  a  wig  ?  "  the  end  of  the  fully  convinced  stage  of  game 
preservation,  even  in  England,  had  arrival ;  and  we  are  not 
now  likely  to  return  to  hunting  as  a  business  policy.  We 
cannot  all  play  Indians  to  the  extent  of  adopting  their  in- 
dustrial system,  as  ninety-nine  out  of  every  hundred  of  us 
would  in  that  case  have  to  be  removed  to  make  room  for 
game. 

As  to  the  fighting  instinct,  such  sturdy  partisans  as  Kip- 
ling and  Roosevelt  still  advocate  wwr  on  educational  grounds ; 
and  I  suppose  that  the  constant  petty  wars  of  the  Middle 
Ages,  and  perhaps  oiu*  own  frontier  fighting,  were  partly  a 
sort  of  instinctive  provision  of  that  kind.  But  admitting 
the  great  importance  of  the  fighting  instinct,  war  is  in  reality 
no  longer  a  profitable  expedient  for  its  cultivation.  Besides 
its  incidental  disadvanti^  of  producing  death,  disease,  and 
graft,  it  has  lost  almost  all  merit  as  an  expression  of  native 
impulse.  To  crouch  behind  a  bank  and  be  stung  by  a  bullet 
sent  by  some  one  you  never  saw,  and  vovld  not  identify,  is 
not  very  different  from  any  other  m«+hod  of  contracting  a 

464 


THE  OVERFLOW 


405 


disease.  There  is  little  more  pugilism  in  it  than  in  catching 
cold.  War  is  now  a  way  of  killing  cff  the  nuwe  wariike  *^r- 
its  among  the  population  without  evoi  saving  them  a  fight 
for  their  money.  If  we  would  preserve  fighting,  in  any  sense 
that  closely  answers  human  instinct,  we  must  abolish  war. 

The  same  is  true  of  dueling.  That  also  has  succumbed 
to  the  bias  of  civilization  toward  efficiency.  The  rapier  was 
the  labcH'^aving  device  that  wrought  the  first  injury.  AStet 
that  invention  you  had  hardly  begun  to  fight,  unless  the  con- 
testants were  both  very  expert,  before  your  adversary  was 
dead  —  or  else  you  were,  which  was  almost  equally  incon- 
venient. Then  came  the  pistol,  which  abolished  the  element 
of  physical  contact  iiltogether  and  paved  the  way  for  drawing 
lots  to  see  which  should  swallow  the  deadly  pill  and  which 
the  harmless  one,  so  that  fighting  could  be  carried  on  by  mul. 
In  a  truly  civilized  country,  like  Japan,  each  man  kills  him- 
self, and  the  labor  saving  is  complete.  The  perfection  of 
method  illustrated  by  this  corre^ndence  schod  of  fighting 
has  banished  the  last  trace  oi  instinctive  satirfactimL 

But  although  we  cannot  return  to  barbarism  for  our  means 
of  life,  we  can  nevertheless  learn  a  great  deal  from  the  aris- 
tocratic system  of  the  value  of  the  barbaric  virtues,  and  of 
the  expediency  of  utilizing,  so  far  as  possible,  the  instinctive 
methods  of  their  devekqunent. 

Hunting  we  can  to  a  comkleraUe  extent  preserve,  and 
there  is  no  better  economy  than  such  preservation.  Every 
live  partridge  in  a  populous  neighborhood  affords  days  of 
absorbing  occupation  for  many  sportsmen.  The  surviving 
trout  b  nature's  truant  officer,  leading  the  erring  chiU, 
youthful  or  gray-haired,  back  to  her  ancient  wchod,  in  whk^ 
a  single  day's  attendance  leaves  him  stronger  for  a  month, 
while  the  day  when  he  scored  a  good  mark  is  a  source  ci  joy- 
ful remembrance  ever  after. 
3b 


PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


Hunting  with  a  camera  has  greatly  increased  our  resources 
in  this  respect.  With  its  increased  demand  for  skill  in  stalk- 
ing, its  more  intimate  approach  to  the  Hfe  of  the  wild  crea- 
tures, its  appeal  to  the  scientific  impulse  and  to  the  artistic 
sense,  and  its  much  wider  choice  of  game,  it  is  a  close  rival  of 
shooting  as  an  instinctive  satisfaction.  And  then  the  crea- 
ture hunted,  though  not  possessed  so  fully  for  a  moment,  is 
possessed  in  his  live  state  forever.  Even  hunting  with  a 
notebook  is  no  mean  resource  for  the  real  nature  lover. 

Hast  thou  named  all  the  birds  without  •  gun. 
Loved  the  lily,  U  ft.  it  on  its  stem? 
•**•*«« 
Then  be  my  frioid.  ami  teadi  me  to  be  thine. 

Curiously  close  to  the  love  of  killing  is  the  love  of  intimate 
acquaintance  with  wild  Hfe.  In  the  case  of  aU  the  song  birds 
our  laws  already  recognize  that  the  latter  now  comes  first. 

As  to  civilized .  satisfaction  of  the  fighting  instinct, 
although  we  cannot  preserve  war  for  the  sake  of  its  educa- 
tional advantages,  we  can  nevertheless  find  some  fairly  effi- 
cient substitutes.  William  James  suggested  the  use  of  the 
dangerous  trades,  such  as  deep-sea  fishing,  structural  steel 
work,  police  duty,  for  this  purpose.  Many  young  men  have 
gone  West  and  lived  as  cowboys,  or  served  as  bosses  in  mines 
or  on  the  railroads,  with  the  same  intention. 

For  those  who  cannot  follow  such  trades,  and  for  the  time 
before  and  after  a  course  in  them,  the  convenient  oveifiow 
is  in  our  games  and  athletic  spores.  And  the  scope  thus 
afforded  to  the  fighting  instinct  is  by  n*.  means  to  be  de- 
spised. While  the  value  of  war  itself  for  educational  purposes 
has,  through  the  progress  of  invention,  constantly  declined, 
the  artificial  substitutes  tor  war  have  by  the  same  means 
Ktthed  «  high  power  ol  ezpresston.  Heid-hunting  ainoi« 


THE  OVERFLOW 


467 


our  fellow  citisens  of  the  Philippines  is  yielding  rapidly  to 
the  superior  appeal  of  baseball  and  American  track  athletics. 
Any  mere  game  must  of  course  lack  the  final  appeal  of  ac- 
tuality, but  on  the  other  hand  such  a  game  as  football,  in 
the  accuracy  with  which  it  follows  the  form  and  spirit  of  the 
fighting  instinct,  and  fits  the  outline  of  surviving  Man  m  this 
respect,  is  superior  to  the  modem  forms  of  war.  Inwar,more- 
over,  there  must  always  be  so  much  waiting  and  weary  march- 
ing, so  much  starvation  and  disease  —  to  say  nothing  of  such 
tedious  interruptions  as  death  and  wounds  —  js  to  render  it 
a  very  inconvenient  kmd  of  sport.  As  a  friend  of  mine  has 
put  it,  war  would  be  very  well  if  you  could  get  home  to  lunch. 

Of  substitutes  for  dueling  I  have  spoken  in  the  chapter 
on  the  fighting  instinct.  It  is  interesting  to  note  that  the 
social  dehabilitation  of  dueling  in  England  was  closely  coin- 
cident with  the  rise  of  Muscular  Christianity  and  the  con- 
sequent exaltation  of  fisticuffs. 

For  the  sake  of  this  overflow  in  the  form  of  games  and  ath- 
letics, especially  in  the  case  of  boys  who  have  gone  to  work, 
we  must  make  large  playground  provision  for  the  apprentice 
age.  Protean  as  om  nature  is,  much  as  we  shall  learn  in  the 
way  of  substituting  a  new  fulfilhnent  for  the  o:i,  there  is, 
and  will  always  remaui,  much  vital  force  conunitted  to  ex- 
pression in  the  ancient  way.  And  our  playgrounds  must  be 
kept  open  at  hours  when  the  working  children  can  use  th'»m : 
in  the  late  afternoons,  on  Sundays,  and  in  the  evening  by 
electric  light.  Long  walks,  hare  and  hound  runs  and  the 
like,  must  be  cultivated  to  satiirfy  the  gang  impulse  on  its 
raiding  side. 

Our  other  great  lesson  in  the  provision  of  an  overflow,  or 
safety  rail  for  human  nature  as  it  rounds  the  curve  from  its 
natural  direction  of  development  to  that  taken  by  modem 
industry,  b  derived  from  the  ancient  sodal  system  —  not 


468  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

from  barbarism  but  from  civilized  life.  The  great  gift  which 
civilization  has  substituted  for  the  ancient  values  that 
it  has  robbed  us  of  is  in  the  form  of  art.  Invention  has  here 
made  us  a  return  that  outweighs  all  that  it  has  taken  from 
us  in  industry  as  an  expression  of  human  instinct  and  ideals, 
—  or  at  least  that  may  do  so  when  we  have  learned  the  use 
of  It.  Here,  if  anywhere,  is  where  we  hit  the  trail  again  that 
leads  to  life. 

I  remember  a  Swedish  saUor  on  a  friend's  yacht,  who  had 
once  saved  money  and  bought  a  Bttle  schooner  of  his  own 
and  lost  her,  and  seemed  a  broken-hearted  man,  who  went  on 
deck  every  night  when  his  work  was  over  and  played  his 
native  Swedish  airs  and  other  music  on  a  tin  pipe.  I  suppose 
that  nineteen-cent  pipe  was  all  that  kept  that  man  alive 
That  is  what  I  mean  by  art..  We  can  get  the  same  thing  in 
many  ways  if  we  will  only  use  our  opportunities  -  in  music, 
painting,  drawing,  dancing,  theatricals,  and  reading  aloud. 

We  Anglo-Saxons  are  the  most  incompetent  of  all  the 
peoples  of  the  world  in  this  respect.   Booker  Washington 
reported  a  deeper  degradation  among  the  London  poor  than 
he  had  ever  known  among  the  Negroes  of  this  countiy  be- 
cause the  Negro  never  wholly  loses  hope  nor  his  sense  of  the 
joy  of  hvmg.    You  cannot  degrade  an  Italian  below  the  love 
b«juty.   However  poor,  he  has  always  an  esthetic  life, 
ihe  Genoese  cabnuin  not  only  shows  you  the  conventional 
sights  but  points  to  the  sunset,  feeKng  that  you  as  a  man  and 
brother  will  surely  sympathize.   The  Irishman  has  always  a 
social  life,  and  when  not  too  much  oppressed  by  American 
example  wUl  preserve  the  arts  of  dancing  and  of  song.  Even 
fightmg  IS  with  him  a  social  function. 

Art  is  the  fulfillment  of  our  creative  instincts  in  richest 
and  most  elaborated  ways ;  it  twines  and  multipKea  together 
Its  mterpretations  of  the  sense  of  form,  of  rhythm,  of  balance 


THE  OVERFLOW 


469 


of  speed  and  space  and  mystery,  up  to  a  climax  of  which, 
without  its  aid,  we  never  could  have  dreamed.  It  invents 
new  blends  and  combinations,  with  new  and  excellent  results. 
Art  is  play  in  its  intensest,  most  sublimated  form.  The  great 
artist  is  everywhere  recognized  as  the  great  genius  -  •  the 
interpreter  of  the  basic  instincts  of  the  race.  If  civilization 
has  balked  some  of  our  native  impulses  of  fulfillment  in  their 
primal  form,  it  has  found  in  art  a  fuller  and  more  lasting  satis- 
faction than  unassisted  nature  ever  gave,  or  than  the  savage 
can  conceive. 

There  are  in  truth  three  stages  of  human  development 
above  the  savage  — the  barbaric,  the  industrial,  and  the 
dvilized.  We  have  readied  the  second  of  these,  but  it  would 
be  suicide  to  stop  there.  "You  persuade  Farmer  Giles  to 
empty  his  rum  barrel  in  the  brook,  but  when  next  morning 
he  awakens  cold  and  uninspired,  what  substitute  have  you  to 
offer  him  ?  "  To  abolish  war,  and  then  to  put  no  compensat- 
ing satisfaction  in  its  place,  is  an  exchange  of  at  lea.st  doubt- 
ful value.  We  have  got  half  across  the  stream ;  we  cannot 
go  back  even  if  we  wanted  to :  our  safety  lies  in  pushing  for- 
ward to  the  other  side.  The  justification  of  peace  is  to  make 
room  for  art.  You  cannot  paint  with  somebody  joggling 
your  elbow,  nor  sing  with  people  shooting  off  guns  or  banging 
at  the  door.  The  home  is  the  fidd  and  midcet  for  the  minor 
arts,  and  immunity  from  sack  and  pillage  is  necessary  to  the 
development  of  homes.  It  is  in  Uie  piping  times  of  peace 
that  the  arts  flourish.  But  peace  that  has  no  time  to  pipe 
is  barren.  What  is  the  use  of  ejecting  the  disturbing  dement 
if  the  band  refuses  to  go  on  ? 

Aa  a  practical  matter  we  must  in  our  sdieme  of  education 
cultivate  more  fully  than  we  do  the  power  of  expression  in 
music,  in  art,  in  sdence  and  in  literature.  No  child  of  av- 
erage canacity  should  be  allowed  to  leave  school  until  he  can 


470  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

dance  well,  sing  a  part  song,  and  either  care  for  some  one 
science  enough  to  c  rry  it  a  little  further  in  his  leisure  mo- 
ments,  or  attain  to  some  expression  in  painting  or  literature. 
If  It  w  only  a  rudimentaiy  ability  in  sketching  or  reading 
aloud    A  boy  who  has  learned  to  play  the  accordion  so  that 
he  really  plays  it  in  his  leisure  moments  is  better  off  than 
one  who  has  studied  years  on  the  piano  but  never  plays  for 
fun.    ^ot  only  the  grammar  school,  the  high  school,  the 
ooUege.  but  especially  the  very  trade  school  itself,  must  make 
deliberate  provision  for  the  development  in  every  boy  and 
giri  of  some  form  of  expression  outside  of  what  their  expected 
occupation  can  afford. 

And  we  must  provide  a  market.    There  is  no  more  dismal 
word  than  culture.    And  the  trouble  with  it  is  that  it  is  self- 
consaous.   Self-perfecting,  making  yourself  the  end  of  your 
^rtions,  becoming  a  beautiful  flower,  -  could  any  pursuit 
be  more  disheartening?   You  are  bored  even  before  you 
have  begun.    "Return,  young  lady,  to  your  sampler,  your 
piano ;  learn  five  little  songs ;  read  Shakespeare  and  Brown- 
ing and  Ibsen;  attend  symphony  concerts,  cultivate  your 
mmd     Is  not  this  a  recommendation  to  return  to  prison, 
to  submit  to  perpetual  young-hidyhood  and  dilettantism? 
What  gives  life  is  not  self-absorption  but  self-forgetfulness 
not  composing  yourself  as  a  beautiful  image  before  the  glass 
but  subordination  to  some  outside  end.    What  brings  powei^ 
and  happmess  is  the  thing  required  of  you.  someth"  .ou 
lorTricks  *  doing  par- 

There  is  a  real  and  serious  difficulty  here.  How  can  any- 
body feel  m  our  modern  society  that  in  following  an  art 
that  IS  not  his  regular  business,  he  is  filhug  a  social  need? 
Where  IS  the  demand?  What  is  tlie  market  for  the 
amateur? 


THE  OVERFLOW 


471 


There  is  no  direct  or  complete  answer  to  this  objection. 

Those  for  whom  an  actual  market  in  the  industrial  sense 
exists,  those  who  are  paid  for  their  work,  we  have  already 
classed  as  belonging  to  the  expressive  trades.  For  them  the 
special  di£Sculty  of  our  civilization,  which  we  are  now  con- 
sidering, does  not  exist  But  for  the  amateur  — that  is, 
for  the  very  great  majority  of  all  of  us  —  there  is  no  market 
in  the  full  sense,  and  no  complete  solution  of  our  problem. 
Life  and  civilization  cannot  be  made  wholly  compatible. 

And  yet  there  are  alleviations  of  this  condition;  there 
u  mudi  that  can  be  done  to  make  it  better,  chiefly  by  us 
amateurs  for  each  other  and  for  ourselves. 

In  the  first  place  the  amateur  is  not  so  wholly  without  a 
direct  market  as  we  are  apt  to  think,  though  it  is  not  of  the 
financial  sort.  There  is  the  home  market.  It  is  the  some- 
thing more,  the  toudi  of  beauty  though  of  a  very  humble 
sort,  that  as  much  as  anything  distingui^es  the  real 
home  from  the  domestic  boarding  house.  And  there  is 
the  love  market  already  spoken  of.  And  then  although 
the  amateur's  product  may  be  —  probably  is  —  below  the 
commercial  standard,  the  real  difficulty  in  selling  it  often  is 
that  it  is  non-transferable.  There  are  cultured  women  whose 
value  to  society  no  money  payment  could  express,  who  yet 
could  not  make  a  living  throu^  excellence  in  any  market- 
able form  of  art. 

But  there  is  another  sort  of  market  for  the  amateur, 
namdy,  in  the  social  need  of  him.  Suppose  he  gave  up,  and 
we  had  no  longer  any  artistic  expression  that  was  not  pro- 
fessional. What  would  be  the  result?  We  should  in  that 
case  lose  not  only  the  amateur  himself  —  with  the  ceasing 
of  that  which  keeps  his  own  soul  alive  in  the  thousands  of 
cases  where  he  is  deprived  of  all  expression  in  his  paid 
calling  —  but  should  lose  the  professional  as  well. 


<72  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

For  the  enstence  of  all  value  depends  upon  the  apm 
tive  power  of  those  by  whom  it  is  assessed.   Among  the 
the  bert  miwiciwi  lacks  appUuae.  Somebody  -  some  s 
people,  or  all  the  people  in  some  degree -must  i8ot 
artistic  attainment  its  world,  the  medium  in  which  it 
socially  exist.    There  must  be  not  necessarily  praise, 
recogmtion,- remark,  blame,  criticism,  reaction  of  a 
aort,  --««  to  hear,  eyes  to  see,  a  mind  to  understam 
least  to  be  conscious  of  such  proficiency  as  may  exist, 
without  a  social  need  of  it  is  a  contradiction.    It  is  so 
without  ears,  light  without  eyes,  food  without  living  on 

'"^L.^^^^*^        "  ^•'""^a"*  that  C«sar 

smtej  the  Dnuds  as  making-great  figures  made  of  bram 
and  filled  up  with  hvmg  people  to  be  burned  as  sacrifices  to 
gods.  Our  social  body  must  be  so  constructed  that  ther 
a  place  m  it  for  the  artist  -  not  that  he  may  be  burned  a£ 
but  that  the  divine  fire  of  public  utterance  may  reach  h 
for  except  as  he  is  so  reached  he  has  no  voice  or  part 

And  who  is  to  fuIfiU  this  life-saving  function  of  afford 
a  demand  for  art  ?  Why,  eveiybody  as  artist,  for  everybc 
IS  a  part  of  the  mode;  a  world :  the  people  are  sovereign 
art  as  well  as  in  the  sphere  of  politics,  and  nothing  haiTt 
plwe  and  social  reality  that  is  not  real  to  them 

But  we  need  leaders,  and  especially  nonK^mmission 
officers  of  art,  and  these  are  to  be  found  precisely  in  th( 
people  who  make  art  their  avocation,  their  second  ..nng 
life^next  to  their  reguhir  work  wheran  itxey  primarily  nu 

Therefore  I  praise  the  dilettante  and  the  amateur.  T 
salvation  of  art  and  therefore,  under  civilized  conditions,  tl 
saving  of  the  general  life  is  in  their  hands.  It  is  they  wl 
afford  the  soil  for  the  growth  of  their  fellow  amateurs  and : 
the  professional  alike.  For  the  professional's  real  market 


TBB  OVERFLOW  479 

not  to  be  p^d.  but  to  be  bewd.  and  without  the  positive  cul- 
tiyati<m  of  tbe  Mum  by  bis  audienoe  led  bearers  wiU  not 

exist. 

Is  not  there  a  demand  then  for  the  amateur?  Is  the  pres- 
ervation of  life  and  of  the  joy  of  living  in  himscif  and  his 
fellow  cit«eiM  a  sufficient  object?  There  is  for  him  a  mar- 
ket that  none  other  can  supply,  a  place  that  he  alone  can  fill, 
in  the  furnishing  of  a  market  for  aU  art   It  is  a  marlcet  for 
a  market,  and  the  demand,  though  not  directly  inspirinir  or 
insistent,  is  of  a  vital  sort.   It  is  not  a  small  thing  that  U  beie 
at  stake.    Art  m  our  industrial  society  is.  as  we  have  seen, 
mort  ht«jlly  a  matter  of  life  and  death,  a  necessaiy  part  of 
that  ovoilow  by  whicb  tbe  surplus  of  divine  current  that 
cannot  be  carried  in  our  desiccated  industrial  occupatbns 
must  find  its  way.    Culture?  SelfKX)nscious ?   Yes.  as  tbe 
leaf  IS  self-conscious  that  serves  as  soU  in  which  other  forms 
more  beautiful  may  grow.   Our  ancestors  out  of  their  scant 
resources  founded  Harvard  CoMege  in  order  that  polite 
learmng  might  not  die  from  among  us.    That  was  tbe 
Puntan  response  to  the  call  of  the  humanities.   Cannot  we 

rise  as  high  as  they  on  what  was  admittedly  their  weakest 
siaer 

It  is  beie  that  there  odsts  tbe  great  demand  upon  tbe 
budding  power  of  girls.  especiaUy  of  those  who  now  offer  tbe 
most  difficult  problem  of  unutilized  force -those,  namely 
who  do  not  have  to  work  and  who  have  no  vocation  which  it 
seems  best  for  them  to  follow  professionally.  It  is  peculiarly 
the  business  of  girls  to  be  our  cultivators  in  the  arts.  From 
the  Vestal  Virgms  of  Rome  and  Babylon  tbey  have  been  the 
pnestesses  of  the  hearth  -  the  focus  of  tbe  amenities  of  life, 
^ere  will  be  no  true  revival  of  art  among  us  until  its  Isa- 
beUa  d  Estes  and  its  Elizabeths  appear.  Is  then  this  read- 
ing, sketching,  playing  the  piano,  so  poor  and  cold  a  busmess 


474  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


after  all?  Hard  perhaps,  but  not  so  unresponsive  if  you 
put  your  heart  into  it,  and  bearing  within  it  a  vital  intenst 
of  our  dvilisatioii. 

I  am  not  rare  indeed  but  that  in  the  more  technical  and 
the  more  emotional  forms  of  art  the  amateur  may  have, 
after  all,  the  best  of  it.  Queen  Elizabeth  said  that  a  gentle^ 
man  should  not  dance  like  a  dancing  master.  Fanny  Kemble 
found  the  actor's  life  unwholesome :  the  constant  stirring  of 
emotion,  laying  his  heart  bare  every  evening  to  make  a 
Roman  holiday,  was  not  a  normal  way  of  life.  Hiose  whose 
business  it  has  been  to  deal  with  artists,  smgers,  actors, 
musicians,  painters  —  authors  even  — know  that  a  profes- 
sional aesthetic  development  does  not  always  tend  to  pro- 
duce balance,  magnanimity,  or  self-control.  The  rhythms 
were,  I  think,  not  meant  to  bear  the  major  part  in  life  nor  to 
be  the  directors  of  our  principal  daily  occupation.  Those 
who  cultivate  them  as  a  by-product  may  cultivate  them  best. 

Perhaps  the  most  important  statisf action  of  all,  outside 
of  the  daily  work  —  the  most  important  portion  of  our  over- 
flow —  is  in  the  form  of  politics,  a  pursuit  which  the  priv- 
ileged classes  have  in  all  ages  reserved  for  themselves,  not 
wholly  I  think  for  the  sake  of  retaining  power  in  their  own 
hands,  but  partly  from  an  instinctive  appreciation  of  the 
direct  sporting  value  of  a  political  career.  The  great  dis- 
covery of  democracy  has  been  not  that  the  people  should  for 
prudential  reasons  control  their  own  affairs,  but  that  they 
are  under  the  necessity  of  doing  so  because  of  the  spiritual 
values  involved.  The  virtue  of  self-government  is  not  in 
any  superiority  in  its  results,  but  mainly  as  it  affords  the 
widest  and,  outside  of  the  home,  the  most  natural  expression 
of  the  belonging  instinct 

And  the  same  advantage  inheres  in  preparation  for  a  po- 
litical career.  The  raccess  of  the  English  boarding  school 


THE  OVERFLOW  475 

Rud  college  was  not  in  learning  to  quote  Horace  and  write 
bad  Latin  vene,  nor  even  in  the  cultivation  of  cricke*:  and 
football,  but  in  the  fact  that  these  accompKshments  wen 
regarded  as  the  divinely  appointed  method  of  preparation 
for  governing  the  British  empire.  Oiir  schools  and  colleges 
must  learn  to  put  the  same  motive  of  political  apprentice- 
ship behind  their  work.  The  political  career  to  which  they 
lead  will  never,  it  is  true,  for  the  average  student,  be  so  glit- 
tering as  in  the  case  of  the  English  pubBc  school,  and  uni- 
versity, but  it  can  be  verj'  real,  and  veiy  valuable  to  the 
individual  as  well  as  to  the  country. 

We  must  admit  the  young  man  into  our  councils,  receive 
him  into  political  alliance,  and  require  poKtical  service  of 
him.  Politics  is  the  best  adult  game  there  is,  and  as  a 
direct  instinctive  manifestation  of  the  gang  it  is  one  of  the 
most  attractive  to  the  ;.oung  —  a  truth  that  the  professional 
politicians  have  long  since  foi  id  and  acted  on.  Their  name 
of  "students"  for  their  heelew-in-training  shows  insight  as 
well  as  humor.  The  great  advantage  of  democracy  is  that 
It  affords  politics  enough  to  go  round.  We  must  learn  to 
utilize  our  resources  in  this  re^)ect. 

In  order  that  opportunity  for  life  outside  of  vocation  may 
exist,  whether  in  the  form  of  poKtics,  of  athletics,  or  of  art. 
there  must  be,  besides  physical  opportunity  and  a  prelimi- 
nary school  training,  time  and  strength  to  devote  to  these 
pursuits.  No  one  who  works  at  a  desiccated  calling  every 
day  until  he  is  tired  out  has  any  real  chance  to  live.  It  is 
true  that  people  are  usuaUy  not  so  tired  as  they  think  they 
are,  and  can  get  more  rest  from  games  or  dancing,  or  some 
other  form  of  play,  than  they  can  from  lying  down  or  from 
merely  being  entertained.  But  besides  play  itself  there  b 
tue  study  preliminary  to  the  best  forms  of  play  to  be  pro- 


47»  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


vided  for,  such  u  learning  a  language  or  nuwtoiiiif  a  nnta- 
ical  instrument    And  even  play  Haelf  lequiies  aome 

strength. 

We  must  aca)rdingly  provide  that  children  shall  not  en- 
gage in  full-time  work  before  the  age  of  sixteen,  perhaps  not 
until  later  still.  We  mutt  solve  the  problem  of  part-time 

education,  in  order  that  other  forms  of  growth  may  still  go 
on  while  vocational  skill  and  habit  are  being  acquired.  We 
must  shorten  the  working  hours  of  grown  people  in  the  inex- 
pressive trades  so  as  to  leave  time  and  strength  for  a  life 
outside  of  them.  We  must  make  a  fuller  use  of  Sunday  for 
the  purpose  of  carrying  on  that  part  of  life  that  is  left  out 
of  the  w^eek-day  occupation. 

When  we  have  done  all  these  things  —  if  we  can  do  them 
without  so  cutting  down  material  subsistwice  as  to  have  no 
strength  to  play  (a  question  depending  mainly  on  the  selec- 
tion and  control  of  population)  —  when  we  have  secured 
the  benefit  of  all  our  industrial  inventions  by  tn«Viy.g  them 
no  longer  our  taskmasters  but  our  servants  —  then  nt  last 
will  civilization  be  to  the  average  man  a  clear  and  cer- 
tam  benefit.  Then  shall  we  surpass  the  savage  not  only 
through  escape  from  squalor  and  starvation  but  through  a 
fuller  and  more  expressive  life. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  use  of  Sunday  as  one  of  the  oppor- 
tunities fur  reaching  this  consummation.  I  think  it  is  the 
great  opportunity.  The  problem  of  civilization  is  the  problem 
of  leisure.  For  those  to  whom  Insure  is  denied,  to  whom  loss 
of  expression  in  industry  is  not  made  up  in  art  or  j^y,  civ- 
ilization is  of  doubtful  benefit.  And  it  is  especially  to  the 
leisure  afforded  by  Sunday,  in  which  there  is  not  merely  time 
but  strength  and  daylight  and  the  morning  hours,  that  civil- 
ised man  must  look  for  recompense. 
Sunday  is  the  day  of  compensation,  the  day  of  the  fulfill- 


THE  OVERFLOW 


477 


BMBt  <rf  thoM  MMntul  aims  for  which  the  week  day  has  left 
no  room.  It  k  the  day  for  completing  the  pattern,  for  weav- 
ing into  the  texture  of  our  lives  thow  main  rtrandi  of  being 

which  would  otherwise  be  left  out,  and  without  which  we  aro 
not  quite  alive.  It  is  the  day  of  the  lost  talents,  of  un- 
fulfilled possibilities,  the  day  for  saving  some  little  fragment 
of  the  gift  that  nature  made. 

Sunday  is  family  day.  It  is  the  day  on  which  the  father 
is  at  home,  the  day  for  pl«ying  the  new  piece  on  the  piano, 
for  singing  hymns  and  songs  and  reading  aloud.  It  is  the 
(.ay  for  visiting  museums  and  parks,  —  and  it  should  be  a 
condition  m  the  charter  of  any  well-mounted  museum  or 
library  that  it  should  be  open  on  Sunday  afternoons. 

Sunday  is  the  people's  university,  the  day  of  h'beral  educa^ 
tion,  devoted  to  the  universal  interests.  It  is  the  day  for 
cultivating  those  things  that  belong  to  us  not  as  industrial 
implements  but  as  men,  of  which  religion  is  the  most  impor- 
tant Hie  Talmud  says,  on  Sunday  the  master  and  the 
workman  shall  be  equal. 

Sunday  is  renewal,  a  rejoining  of  the  primal  sources  of  our 
life.  In  the  island  of  Capri  they  ha\  •  a  pretty  custom — a  sur- 
^val  such  as  one  finds  in  all  South  Italy  of  the  G-eek  proces- 
sbnal  religion  —  in  accordance  with  which  the  Madonna  goes 
every  spring  to  visit  her  former  home  down  by  the  seashore 
where  the  church  used  to  stand.  There  is  an  important  sym- 
bolism in  this  old  ceremony,  and  one  in  harmony  with  our 
preent  theme.  Sunday  b  the  day  for  revisiting  the  ancient 
shrines,  for  excursions  to  our  ancestral  abode  by  stream  and 
wood  and  seashore,  for  seddng  the  fountains  of  our  strength 
back  in  our  racial  past. 

The  true  Sunday  will  be  partly  different  for  different  men. 
Each  to  his  natural  habitat  as  Mother  Nature  caUs.  The 
•rtist  condemned  to  office  work  will  turn  to  hb  carving,  the 


478  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

musician  to  his  violin.  The  born  teacher  wiU  spend  his 
Sunday  with  the  children  -  and  all  of  us,  I  hope,  are  partly 
teachere.  The  hunter  will  to  the  woods,  the  poet  to  the 
hills,  the  soldier  to  some  athletic  contest.  That  which  he 
should  have  been,  and  is  not  in  his  daily  work,  each  man  wUl 
diligently  seek  on  the  day  given  him  for  this  very  purpose 
that  he  should  keep  his  soul  alive. 

The  forbidding  of  such  pious  pilgrimage  on  that  one  day  of 
the  week  consecrated  by  nature,  and  by  the  mser  portions 
of  our  law,  to  the  end  that  such  pilgrimag.  may  be  made,  is 
not  truly  a  Sunday  law,  but  a  hw  that  Sunday  shall  not 
exist. 

For  the  young  the  need  of  Sunday  is  especially  vital,  the 
OSS  of  it  especially  severe.   The  master  instincts  of  our 
hves  are  not  all  equaUy  present  at  all  periods.   Youth  is  the 
especial  reign  of  some  of  those  whose  fulfiUment  cannot  be 
packed  into  the  confines  of  a  sedentary  occupation.  Our 
industrial  world  differs  most  markedly  from  that  of  which 
nature  is  still  dreaming  in  every  growing  boy  and  girl.  The 
young  man  is  still  in  his  heart  a  soldier,  a  viking :  his  soul 
IS  not  fulfiUed  by  adding  figures  or  watching  a  machine. 
Obedience  to  the  great  expressive  instincts  is,  for  young 
people,  a  matter  not  merely  of  preserving  life  but  of  attaining 
It:  the  question  is  not  of  survival  merely,  but  of  whether 
they  shaU  ever  live  at  all.   To  our  boys  and  girls  from  four- 
teen to  twenty-one  years  old,  of  whom  a  large  and  increasing 
proportion  of  our  factory  population  now  consists,  our  Sun- 
day  laws  are  a  denial  of  life,  the  permanent  dwarfing  of  the 
soul. 

The  whole  purpose  of  Sunday  is  a  chance  to  grow  and  live. 
It  IS  the  one  day  consecrated  by  nature  and  by  man  to  such 
fulfiUment  of  our  humanity  as  the  necessities  of  our  weekday 
labor  cannot  afford.  When,  on  the  top  of  bug  houn  of 


THE  OVERFLOW 


479 


stmlizing  work,  we  impose  a  Sunday  law  to  rob  the  growing 
youth  of  this  one  day  in  whidi  nature  might  have  had  her 
part  in  them,  to  niake  them  strong  and  beautiful  and  happy, 
we  have  sinned  against  nati^r--  and  against  the  spirit  of 
Sunday,  the  bri^iitcst  %nd  ha,)piest  of  our  institutions. 


EPILOGUE 


PLAT  THE  RESTORER 

I  HAVE  described  the  process  by  which  as  I  believe  the  great 
achieving  instincts  build  up  the  child.  Man,  the  outcome 
of  the  process,  is  the  incarnation  of  these  instincts.  His 
body  is  their  tool  and  in  great  part  their  handiwork.  His 
mind  and  heart  are  emanations  of  them.  And  the  impulses 
that  have  produced  the  man  also  sustain  him.  It  is  in  pro- 
portion as  he  is  maker,  fighter,  hunter,  nurturer,  scientist, 
citizen,  artist  —  achievement  set  to  rhythm  — that  he  is 
really  there.  Uninformed  by  these  constituent  purposes, 
he  is  a  derelict,  the  left-off  clothes  of  a  soul  that  has  abdicated. 
So  long  as  these  purposes  are  alive  in  him,  his  life  persbts. 
When  they  cease  to  operate,  the  flame  goes  out. 

In  <me,  perhaps  tiie  deepest,  sense  man  is  these  instincts, 
whidi  thus  build  and  sustain  him.  They  are  the  ultimate 
fact  about  him,  his  active  self,  giving  his  true  form  and  law, 
constituting  the  final  irreducible  substance  of  which  he  is 
composed.  But  these  great  master  instincts  are  also  some- 
thing more.  They  transcend  the  individual,  they  come  to 
him  from  behind  the  veil,  well  up  in  him  from  an  outside 
source.  They  are  independent  of  his  will,  authoritative. 
Their  voice  in  his  heart  —  even  though  it  speaks  in  an  accent 
and  with  a  word  imparted  to  no  other  —  is  ultra-personal. 

Man  is  the  product  of  the  achieving  instincts ;  he  is  these 
instincts.  And  in  a  third,  perhaps  the  truest  sense,  he  is 
the  act  of  their  fulfillment  Man  is  a  process;  his  law  b  a 

480 


PLAY  THE  RESTORER 


481 


law  of  action.  Matter  passes  through  him  as  through  a 
wave  in  a  rapid.   It  takes  the  shape  which  his  law  ^ves  it 

just  as  it  obeys  the  laws  of  gravitation  and  momentum  in 
the  wave.  He  is  n^,  the  material,  but  the  law,  or  rather  the 
fulfillment  of  it,  and  exists  in  the  act  of  such  fulfillment.  As 
the  lawgiving  form  of  each  instinct  is  an  ideal,  so  man  is 
the  coming  true  of  ideals  that  unfold  themselves  within  his 
mind. 

Of  the  ways  in  which  the  play  instincts  sustain  the  life  of 
grown  people  I  will  not  attempt  to  speak.  To  do  so  would 
involve  a  description  parallel  to  that  which  I  have  given  of 
the  growing  child.  It  would  be  a  description  not  only  of  the 
sustaining  by  the  play  instincts  of  what  already  exists,  but 
of  their  continued  shaping  of  the  individual.  For  growth  is 
not  confined  to  infancy. 

So  take  and  use  Thy  work ! 
Amend  what  flaws  may  lurk. 
What  strain  o'  the  stuff, 
What  warpings  past  the  aim  I 
My  times  be  in  Thy  hand  I 
Perfect  the  cup  as  planned  I 
Let  age  approve  of  youth. 
And  death  complete  the  same. 

Man  is  still  plastic  to  the  purposes  that  formed  him  so  k>ng 
as  he  is  yet  alive.  Infancy  is  for  the  acquiring  of  the  vocab- 
ulary, for  getting  in  all  the  elements  that  go  to  make  the 
whole.  The  perfecting  of  the  instrument,  refining  it  closer 
and  doser  to  the  invisible  law  of  its  best  service,  is  the  work 
of  the  rest  of  life. 

But  though  I  shall  not  attempt  to  aJiow  the  full  play  of  the 
constituting  instincts  in  this  great  process,  I  do  wish  briefly 
to  describe  their  action  not  in  sustaining  and  perfecting,  but 
in  lebuilding  —  in  replacing  the  wasted  tissue,  recharging 


482  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

the  exhausted  mind,  restoring  life  which  has  become  im- 

paired.  The  process  is  somewhat  analogous  to  that  of  growth 
m  infancy.  Sickness  is  a  sort  of  second  childhood;  the  in- 
valid returns  to  Mother  Vature  as  his  best  and  kindest  nurse 
«id  trusts  once  more  to  her  promptings  for  the  regaining  of 
that  which  she  originaUy  bestowed.  ^ 

The  laws  of  health  are  it  seems  to  me  the  most  intere3ting 
laws  there  are.  The  process  by  which  food  and  drink  and 
air  become  man  is  the  most  wonderful  process  in  nature  -  a 
miracle  .„  comparison  with  which  everything  else  seems 
commonplace. 

Imperious  Caesar,  dead  and  tum'd  to  clay, 
Might  stop  a  hole  to  keep  the  wind  away.' 

But  it  is  infinitely  more  remarkable  that  clay,  through 
«i  mtenrediate  process  of  vegetation,  can  become  imperious 
CKsar  and  shape  the  destinies  of  the  world.  Air.  water, 
carbon,  enter  the  human  body  and  in  a  few  hours  or  seconds 
become  character.  What  just  now  was  a  piece  of  doughnut, 
morally  un.msed  appears  as  love  or  hate  or  aspiration  par- 
taking  not  only  of  hmnan  nature,  but  of  the  form  and  accent 
of  a  particular  personality,  down  to  a  trick  of  manner  in- 
nented  from  some  remote  ancestor. 

Or  if  we  say  the  body  does  not  actually  contain  character, 
but  «  only  the  instrument  of  its  release,  the  phenomenon  is 
hardly  less  remarkable. 

I  am  nophysiologist,  and  am  ignorant  as  to  where  the  initia- 
tion takes  place,  at  what  stage  the  new  substance  is  met  and 
welcomed,  gets  its  sailing  papers,  and  becomes  a  partaker  of 
he  mystery  The  ancient  tradition  that  the  blood  is  the 
hfe,  the  blood  bond  the  basis  of  relationship,  seems  to  have  a 
^3^ol<Hn<»^  foundation.  The  biood  has,  at  least,  a  great 
part  assigned  to  it  m  the  process  by  which  matter  becomes 


PLAY  THE  RESTORER  483 


charged  with  soul.    Each  drop  becomes  possessed,  as  it  sets 
forth  upon  its  mission,  of  the  law  and  purpose  of  the  in- 
dividual.  It  knows,  or  learns  as  it  goes  along,  the  form  of 
the  body  as  a  whole,  judging  with  accuracy  how  much  ot 
repair  is  due  to  one  tissue,  how  much  to  another,  and  assigning 
to  each  its  proper  share.   And  the  new  tissues  instantly 
understand  the  secret  of  the  organism.   Those  constituting 
the  body  at  a  given  time  are,  for  their  tour  of  duty,  custodians 
of  the  will  and  character  of  the  individual,  intrusted  with 
the  tradition,  to  carry  it  forward  and  hand  it  on  to  others  in 
their  turn.    The  body  is  like  an  army  in  active  service  to 
which  thousands  of  new  recruits  are  every  moment  reporting 
for  duty  on  the  field,  and  in  which  each  recruit,  as  he  is  as- 
signed his  place,  knows  by  instant  intuition  all  that  the 
veterans  knew  of  the  structure  of  the  whole  and  his  own  part 
in  it.    It  is  like  a  cloud  on  a  mountain.    The  cloud  hangs 
there  stationary,  maintaining  nearly  the  same  shape ;  but  if 
you  dimb  up,  you  will  find  that  the  wind  is  blowing  through 
it,  sending  each  drop  of  mist  singing  along  at  the  rate  of  per- 
haps thirty  miles  an  hour.    What  gives  it  its  existence  and  its 
shape  is  not  a  certain  body  of  material,  but  a  law  imposed  on 
material  that  passes  through  it.   Man  is  a  vortex,  a  flame, 
controUing  matter  that  comes  within  his  scope. 

What  can  be  done  to  make  the  flame  bum  brighter? 
Partly,  of  course,  the  question  is  one  of  fuel ;  and  one  can 
learn  every  morning  in  the  newspaper  how,  by  using  special 
materials,  or  even  a  special  preparation  of  familiar  kinds, 
one's  vital  energy  and  moral  excellence  can  be  enhanced. 

But  fuel  is  not  the  only  consideration.  A  breakfast-food 
philosophy  is  incomplete.  Without  food  or  air,  it  is  true,  the 
man  will  die.  But  he  will  die  in  any  case  unless  he  can  im- 
pose himself  on  food  and  air,  and  imbue  them  with  his  pur- 
poses.  Insistent  heralds  of  the  obvious  love  to  reiterate 


4W  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

such  startling  truths  as  that  Napoleon  could  not  conquer 
Europe  without  rations.  But  how  long  would  it  have  taken 
JUS  rations  to  conquer  Europe  without  Napoleon?  How 
many  valiant  potatoes  could  have  done  the  trick  ? 

On  what,  then,  depends  the  ability  to  perform  this  miracle 
of  subduing  outer  elements  to  the  law  of  life?  What  is  the 
way  to  health  ?   For  each  of  us  there  is  an  ideal  body  to  be 

yetfulfilled.   How  can  you  go  to  work  to  realize  it  ? 

The  first  shock  to  notions  derived  from  dealing  with 
morganiic  matter  is  that  the  body  lives  not  primMUy  by  taking 
in.  but  by  putting  forth,  that  the  way  to  accumulate  strength 
«  not  through  conservation,  but  by  using  what  you  have, 
we  are  always  teaching  unfortunate  children  in  our  schools 
If  you  take  two  from  ten  you  will  have  eight  left. 
Whereas  in  all  the  important  affairs  of  life  when  you  take 
two  from  ten  you  are  Kkely  to  get  about  fifteen.   If  you 
take  away  eight,  and  keep  doing  it.  you  may  land  up  with 
two  or  three  thousand,  more  or  less. 

There  are  people  who  think  you  can  get  rested  by  lying 
down.   Even  doctor  sometimes  tell  you  to  do  nothing 
^is  might  be  ver>'  good  advice  if  it  were  not  for  two  things. 
The  first  IS  the  difficulty  of  knowing  how  to  follow  it.  What 
jstiie  shape  of  nothing?   What  color  is  it  ?    Where  does  it 
begm,  how  do  you  get  hold  of  it.  and  exactly  what  is  the 
process  of  its  performance?  The  second  difficulty  is  that 
the  nearer  you  approach  to  doing  nothing,  the  further  you 
are  from  getting  any  good  from  it  -  that  is  to  say,  regarded 
as  a  coniplete  regime.   Of  course  there  are  rest  andTep 
and  relaxation.   But  these  do  not  build  up.    These  are 
tte  gap  betwecm  the  waves  and  cease  to  be  there  when  the 
waves  cease.   The  prescription  to  do  nothing  is  like  the 
Inshman  8  account  oT  how  to  make  a  gun -- "Take  •  hde 


PLAY  THE  RESTORER  485 


and  pour  iron  round  it."  Until  you  pour  your  iron  there 
isn't  any  hole. 

So  the  first  thing  we  learn  is  that  the  way  of  health  is 
action.  You  have  got  to  do  something,  to  use  the  little 
strength  you  have,  expend  the  income  that  is  given  you, 
in  order  to  accumulate  power  or  get  well. 

So  we  prescribe  exercise,  gymnastics,  using  the  musdes, 
moving  the  arms  and  legs.  And  then  we  find  that  the  exer- 
cise does  no  good,  that  going  through  a  set  of  motions  merely 
makes  you  tired  and  after  a  time  bores  you  almost  to  ex- 
tinction—  in  fact,  it  becomes  a  question  whether  life  is 
worth  living  at  such  a  cost,  even  if  it  could  be  so  lived. 

Then  as  you  experiment  you  find  that  some  motions  are 
less  boring  than  some  others.  There  are  combinations  of 
movement  that  seem  to  carry  a  certain  satisfaction  with 
them.  You  can  jump  with  a  chastened  joy  even  when  you 
are  not  jumping  over  anything.  A  muscle  will  do  more, 
and  take  more  interest  in  doing  it,  when  it  ia  working  as 
a  subordinate  in  some  larger  combination  —  pardculariy 
when  the  whole  body  is  engaged. 

But  even  making  general,  instinctively  coordinated  mo- 
tions is  still  a  somewhat  dry  pursuit.  You  cannot  live  by 
gesticulation  even  of  the  most  satisfying  sort.  Pretty 
soon  you  find  there  is  a  mental  element  in  hralthful  ex^ 
cise.  You  are  told  that  you  must  "enjoy  yourself,"  "have 
a  good  time."  And  so  you  go  yachting,  take  vacations, 
travel  in  Europe,  frequent  pleasure  resorts.  We  have  all 
seen  the  result  of  such  attempts.  Nothing  in  the  long  run 
seems  to  produce  a  deeper  melandioly.  The  pursuit  of 
pleasure  is  proverbially  one  in  which  the  pursuor  faUs  con- 
stantly behind. 

Some  people,  however,  have  hit  upon  a  aevice  by  which 
this  sort  of  existence  can  be  improved.   Young  men,  for 


486  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

instance,  will  go  „ff  into  the  woods  with  a  canoe  and  an  insuf. 

ficient  supply  of  food,  get  themselves  lost,  and  then  see 
whether  they  can  get  out  again  alive.  In  tliis  way  many 
successful  experiments  have  been  achieved.  As  soon  as 
the  man  is  no  longer  seeking  pleasure,  but  trying  whether 
he  can  get  out  of  the  woods  before  he  starves,  he  finds  that 
there  really  begins  to  be  some  fun  in  it. 

There  is  evidently  something  in  having  to  do  the  thing 
not  for  the  pleasure  there  is  in  it  but  because,  for  some  reason 
or  another,  it  must  be  done.  Subordination  to  a  purpose 
you  will  find  to  be  a  standing  quality  in  the  activity  that 
gives  hfe  and  health.  The  spirit  wUl  not  enter  and  buUd 
you  up,  will  not  lend  its  streiigtli  to  you,  unless  you  first 
lend  your  strength  to  it.  It  is  not  what  you  try  to  get  out 
of  a  thing  but  what  you  put  into  it  that  is  added  to  you. 

But  it  is  not  every  kind  of  subordination  that  will  make 
you  well.  Slaves  are  not  particularly  healthy,  nor  any  people 
forced  to  drudge  under  exacting  taskmasters. 

Usually  the  best  form  of  subordination  is  in  rendering 
some  kind  of  service.  Those  who  have  had  most  experience, 
doctors  as  weU  as  charity  workers,  agree  that  the  thing  that 
conduces  most  to  health  is  work  -  work  that  is  recognized 
and  respected,  and  through  which  a  person  does  hb  share 
A  woman  taking  care  of  her  family  is  made  well  by  it.  A 
child  who  does  his  lessons  well  in  school  gets  the  same  kind 
of  benefit.  The  best  thing  for  a  boy  or  girl,  physically  as 
weU  as  moraUy.  is  to  have  some  definite  duty  to  perform 

As  there  is  nothing  that  will  kill  faster  than  the  conscious- 
ness of  being  an  incapable,  a  useless  drag  on  tl  j  working 
members  of  society,  so  there  is  nothing  that  gives  life  like 
the  sense  of  competency.  We  live  as  we  feel  the  require- 
ments of  society  fulfilled  in  us. 
One  important  thing  that  wc  can  aU  do  to  heal  the  sick 


PLAY  THE  RE8T0REB  487 


is  to  help  enlarge  the  general  conception  of  what  constitutes 
useful  woric,  so  as  to  indude  the  service  that  th^r  can  tender. 
Dr.  James  J.  Putnam  has  written  with  authority  upon  this 
subject.  The  thing  above  all  others  that  makes  invalids 
is  the  fact  tliat  once  below  the  standard  of  the  industrial 
worid,  no  other  standard  is  provided  for  them.  They 
have  no  reco{niized  duties  to  perform.  There  is  nothing 
definite  required  of  them,  and  no  recognition  is  given  to 
anything  that  they  can  do. 

Society,  like  the  individual,  has  an  invisible  body  toward 
which  it  tends.    \Vlien  any  person  so  places  himself  as  to 
fill  out  that  form,  he  is  received  into  it   The  life  of  the  whole 
passes  through  him  and  sustains  him,  as  the  law  of  the 
cathedral  thrills  down  through  each  detail,  bursts  out  ui 
the  gargoyle  here,  restrains  the  pinnacle  there,  vibrates 
upward  in  the  spire,  and  holds  every  stone  in  place.  But 
this  invisible  body  varies  in  its  form.   It  exists  in  the  minds 
of  the  people,  and  changes  with  their  thought.   And  it  is 
only  the  places  that  the  public  conception  calls  for  that 
exist  and  in  filling  which  a  man  partakes  of  tlie  common 
life.   There  is  a  spiritual  as  well  as  a  material  demand,  and 
the  supply  must  correspond.   Athens  produced  philosophers 
and  artists  because  every  dtizen's  conception  of  the  body 
politic  —  the  real  Athens  of  which  the  Parthenon  and  the 
Long  Walls  were  but  tlie  material  reflection  —  induded 
philosophy  and  art.   So  Sparta  produced  soldiers,  Rome 
administrators,  Yale  football  players.   These  were  called 
up  from  the  mass  by  the  voice  of  the  corporate  ideal.  A 
great  tradition  can  raise  up  spiritual  children  out  of  the 
very  stones.   Individuals  will  arise  to  fill  out  the  unseen 
body  that  the  city  has  projected  in  its  heart. 

We  must  so  extend  our  notions  of  what  constitutes  sodety 
that  even  these  last,  the  invalids,  are  members  of  the  team. 


*88  PUY  IN  EDUCATION 

with  a  part  assigned  to  them.   In  ptrticulw,  theie  Is 

ahead  of  us  in  working  out  definitely,  for  different  imUv 
and  classes  of  invalids,  precisely  what  duties  they  ca 
nil.  We  must  learn  to  see  so  clearly  that  society's  su; 
duty  IS  the  soul's  health  of  each  that  the  neglect  to  ! 
an  honorable  function,  implying  a  moral  demand,  t. 
single  member  shall  be  abhorrent  to  us.   We  must 
that  the  invalid  shall  have  a  part.    We  must  say  to 
We  wUl  not  let  you  off.   Perhaps  you  are  the  one 
the  hardest  ,ob  assigned.   You  are  holding  the  line  , 
weakest  pomt   If  you  cannot  contribute  to  material 
penty.  you  can  uphold  the  dignity  of  human  nature  i 
It  IS  most  imperiled." 

And  the  part  assigned  to  the  invalid  is  indeed  irapor 
me  regmient  could  never  charge -there  could  nev( 
a  rer-ment  at  aU  -  if  those  stricken  down  as  it  advj 
wore  c  a  part  of  it.  It  is  because,  whole  or  woui 
sick  or  well,  ahve  or  dead,  they  are  a  part  of  it.  parti 
of  Its  acts.  st.ll  advancing  with  it  in  their  hearts,  triump 
m  Its  victory,  that  there  can  be  such  a  thing  as  a  reein 
an  army,  or  a  stete.  It  is  Dr.  Putnam  who  has  quote 
this  conr  jtion  Qough's  verses : 

If  hopes  were  dupes,  fears  may  be  liars; 

It  may  be.  in  yon  smoke  ciHicealed, 
Your  comrades  chase  e'en  now  the  fliers; 

And,  but  for  you,  possess  the  field. 

For  whUe  the  tired  waves,  vainly  breaking 

Sean  here  no  painfulinch  to  gain. 
Far  back,  through  creeks  and  inlets  makiiig. 

Comes  silent,  flooding  in,  the  mmn. 

Health  is  largdy  a  social  product.  A  hero,  it  is  true, 
project  his  own  sodety.  constitute  through  his  own  gei 


PLAY  THE  KESTOUER  4^9 

an  ideal  world  and  be  sustained  hy  it.  But  for  tlie  «ven» 
sick  soul,  such  a  feat  is  bevond  iis  strength. 

We  shaU  have  inspired  invalids,  and  genius  in  homely 
forms,  just  as  we  shall  have  science  and  art.  in  proportion 
as  the  commonwealth  we  carry  in  our  hearts  shaU  caU  for 
them.  Tlie  creation  of  human  personality,  in  this  as  in  aM 
Its  manifestations,  is  an  act  of  faith  to  which  we  aU  con- 
tribute or  from  which  we  may  detract. 

This  same  vital  potency  of  the  belonging  instinct  is  seen 
mmany  wayj  It  is  said,  for  instance,  that  politicians  never 
die,  so  powerful  to  sustain  is  their  function  as  official  repre- 
sentatives  of  the  community's  team  sense.  Gladstone  came 
ver>'  near  to  verifying  that  theory.  When  Balfour  became 
a  member  of  the  House  of  Commons  a  row  of  medicine 
bottles  permanently  vanished  from  his  shelf.  Methuselah 
1  think  was  some  sort  of  patriarch  or  poUtical  functionary. 

As  the  muscle  derives  its  health  from  serving  the  whole 
body  the  body  from  serving  the  inclusive  aims  of  the  ind;- 
vidual,  so  the  life  and  health  of  the  whole  organism  depend 
on  ,te  service  of  a  larger  whole.  And  the  law  of  the  social 
whole,  in  .ts  turn,  thrills  down  into  all  the  members  of  the 
body  until  each  feels  the  swing  of  che  wider  orbit  and  re- 
-ponds,  ^o  drop  of  blood  can  go  singing  on  its  way  con- 
tent and  happy,  unless  the  man  is  himself  a  servant  We 

Every  tissue  m  us  knows  it    Our  physical  life  depends  upon 

in  .  ''u"  ^'^<»        bring  d<^th 

m  battle  or  m  the  hospital,  but  it  is  also  true  thaTthe  ab- 
scMe  of  such  service  shuts  out  all  hope  of  life 

But  th^  are  other  kinds  of  play  besides  belonging. 

Competition  «  the  commonest  element  in  all  our  games  : 

enceflatmdeed.   A  race  in  which  aU  receive  the  same 


490  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


win  not  pennanratly  appeal  to  any  boy  or  man.  To  cut 
the  connection  betwven  successful  exertion  and  the  mull 
obUined  is  to  lame  the  Mithmetic  of  life  and  rob  it  of  iti 
normal  satisfaction.  No  man  will  be  really  well  and  happy 
if  ever  the  element  of  competition  is  abolished. 

But  people  are  sometimes  too  sick  to  work,  especially  in 
tiie  full  competitive  sense,  and  even  when  they  can  work  a 
little,  there  are  for  every  invalid  many  hours  that  must  be 
filled  in  some  less  strenuous  way. 

The  simplest  form  of  sport  I  have  heard  of  was  breathing. 
Thb  game  was  invented  by  a  friend  of  mine  who  had  nervous 
prostoation,  and  he  told  me  it  vas  the  only  thing  that  kept 
him  alive.  His  invention  .did  not  consist  of  finding  out  that 
when  your  breath  stops  you  die,  but  in  learning  that  he  cmiM 
amuse  himself  by  taking  long  breaths  and  letting  thorn  out 
very  slowly  with  a  hissing  sound,  a  process  which,  besides 
providing  hun  an  occupation,  must  have  brought  the  addi- 
tional satisfaction  of  bdng  offensive  to  any  one  within  hear* 
ing.  This  is  what  the  psychological  students  of  play  call 
"joy  in  being  a  cause"  —  and  joy  in  being  a  nuisance  is  like 
unto  it,  and  a  very  close  second  at  that. 

I  remember  one  time  when  I  was  sick  a  niece  of  mine  gave 
nae  a  Japanese  straw  badger,  and  she  fixed  him  with  one  of 
his  arms  up  in  the  air  so  as  to  present  a  cheerful  and  enterpris- 
ing aspect.  He  was,  I  think,  the  first  incarnation  of  Arnold 
Bennett's  Denry  the  Audacious.  I  believe  it  was  that  badger 
that  pulled  me  through,  though  the  cure  was  shared  by  a 
nurse  who  kept  me  doing  things,  so  that  I  was  always  looking 
forward  to  the  next  stunt,  and  a  Japanese  bird  of  a  dieerfiil 
«id  adequate  p  .  jnality  hung  in  a  Christmas  wreath. 

Just  seeing  pleasant  things  is  a  potent  means  of  health. 
That  is  why  girls  make  such  good  friendly  visitors.  Remem- 
ber also  Kipling's  lighthouse  man  who  went  crazy  because 


PLAY  THE  RESTOHBR  491 

tlie  steamers  made  streaks  in  his  water  When  he  irot  on 
board  a  ship,  where  the  lines  ran  ai:  kir.ds  of  w»vs.  he  !,egan 
to  fad  better  once.  When  you  hav  ,  been  ,  .  a  citv.  where 
everything  goes  »t  right  angles,  you  cm  feel  the  vital  cur- 
rents  leap  up  again  when  you  go  out  «rf  «e  RHOMied 
tree  t„ps  and  sloping  hills.  The  seashore  is  go^  If  you 
don  t  take  too  much  ;  hut  most  p*.,p,e.  I  think,  would  die 
»f  they  could  not  get  where  was  something  besides 

gray  cofors  and  horizontd  lines.  Travelling  would  really 
be  as  good  for  us  as  it  is  «ppo.rf  to  be  if  you  did  not  have 
to  die  first,  -  that  is,  cut  off  aB  your  otinr  of  Ife 

in  order  to  indr^l-e  in  it. 

J  !!^  •^^T'*^^*^  ^'^^"ty  ea.  whir!,  the  .ure 
was  helped  by  taking  the  patient  out  ....   the  country,  or 

Zl      '  r  V?.*  .t««  to  ^  the  shops. 

Perhaps  in  the  Washington  street  thew  w«i  rtfawUalioi, 
in^e  footbaU  tactios  reqitiBed  to  win  through  that  thotough. 

Nert  to  the  play  of  the  eyes  there  is  the  play  of  the  hand. 
Mm  «  a  culture  of  the  h«d.    He  was  built  back  from  it 
a  the  tree  from  the  leaf.   It  was.  from  the  beginning  of 
his  career,  h.s  pomt  of  issue,  the  business  end  of  him,  i5»t 
the  jaws  are  to  the  wolf,  the  claws  to  the  cat.   As  he  fi«t 
grew  up  from  it,  he  can  be  restored  through  reverting  to  its 
use.   Man  in  action  is  primarily  a  manipulator.   His  mind 
and  temperament  aro  l«ilt  on  handiwork  and  are  attuned 
10  It.    in  a  few  years  from  now  you  will  find  in  eveiy  honital 
majiua  occupation  provided,  fitted  to  the  vaiyag  sfaZth 
and  talents  of  the  patients. 

in^r^^'T^^^  ^^^^'^    in  the  rhythmic 

he  tth  ;t  T  ApouVwas 
tLl^tl'l  '^  ^''''^-  O'-^  "porting  hi.  experi. 
ence  with  the  Samtaiy  CoiMMssion  during  the  Qvill^, 


492 


PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 


said  that  militaiy  bands,  as  well  as  systematic  athletic  exer- 
cise, had  a  great  tendency  to  keep  the  soldiers  well ;  while 
sending  money  home  (loyalty  again)  kept  up  their  morale. 
The  first  and  8iiiq>lest  expression  of  the  rythmic  instinct, 
and  the  annpletest  tm  most  people,  is  in  tiie  fwia  of  dandng. 
The  mistake  we  lumally  make  is  to  mppoae  that  Ham«itig 
is  only  for  the  very  young.  The  right  age  to  learn  to  dance 
is  the  age  you  happen  to  be ;  but  the  best  age  for  the  use  of 
the  accomplishment  is  from  about  fifty  on.  The  instinct 
b  as  strong  in  the  lator  as  in  the  earlier  part  oi  life,  and  the 
need  of  using  it  is  greater  in  propordoa  as  we  tend  to  beoraie 
stiff  in  the  joints  both  of  body  and  mind.  The  last  part  of 
the  story  of  the  grasshopper  and  the  ant  —  unfortunately 
omitted  from  all  editions  heretofore  —  is  that  the  grass- 
hopper took  the  ant's  advice,  danced  through  the  winter, 
and  came  out  in  better  shiqw  than  ihe  ant,  who  had  been 
sitting  all  the  time  over  a  stove. 

Then  there  is  music,  the  dancing  of  the  mind,  whidi  has 
restored  numy,  from  the  age  of  Saul  down  to  the  present. 

Hie  most  important  play  is  play  of  the  mind.  All  play 
is  play  of  the  soul  —  the  forward  projeetbn  of  the  man  him- 
self in  the  universe  of  action.  But  man  is  a  blinking  aabuU. 
It  is  that  little  head  of  his  that  has  won  out  against  claw  and 
horn  and  tooth.  And  it  is  the  exerdse  of  the  mind  that 
sounds  the  glad  sources  of  his  strength  and  makes  him  feel 
the  gladiator  he  is. 

The  mental  element  b  in  all  pby,  but  most  in  art  and 
literature  and  science,  and  these  are  the  best  play  of  man  and 
the  most  health-giving.  Some  people  I  know  always  take 
Walter  Scott  for  a  cold.  Some  consider  Trollope  a  more 
effective  jnescription ;  I  believe,  however,  in  reserving  his 
BanAMtw  and  P^^kuamtaiy  soies  f w  ha^^  aiy^gwCT. 

We  may  keep  our  duldrm  too  many  hours  in  sdraol  and 


PLAY  THE  RBSTORER  493 

we  certainly  keep  them  too  many  hours  doing  nothing  while 
there.  But  school,  rightly  conducted,  is  as  important  to 
health  as  outdoor  play.  And  in  later  yean  the  mental 
kind  of  play  becomes  increasingly  valuable.  The  lawyer 
averages  healthier  than  the  prize  fighter,  and  a  man  can 
live  longer  on  music  than  he  can  on  golf. 

Back  of  this  whole  treatment,  the  secret  of  every  cure 
through  play,  is  the  truth  that  the  way  to  win  life  is  by  living 
It ;  the  way  for  any  one  to  extend  his  personality  is  by  act- 
ing out  the  personality  he  has.  Her«.  in  the  human  body, 
or  ready  to  be  absorbed  into  it,  are  thousands  of  molecules 
sitting  round  waiting  to  see  what  kind  of  sport  you  have  to 
oSet  them.  Is  your  bvitation  worth  accepting;  is  the 

kind  of  game  going  on  Acre  one  that  fa  worth  while  to  job  ? 

Can  you  get  up  such  an  excitement,  such  a  rush  and  con- 
course  of  these  who  have  already  taken  part,  that  the  on- 
looker is  swept  along  in  the  contagion  ?  The  game  of  health 
IS  like  getting  up  a  dance  or  picnic.   You  must  go  in  with 
avimifyouwonMsiioeeed.   It  fa  the  big  fire  that  spreads. 
Or  It  is  like  Tom  Sawyer's  method  when  he  had  to  white- 
wash the  fence.   You  remember  that  he  put  such  artistic 
appreciation  into  his  job.  that  the  other  boys,  instead  of 
pitying  him,  actuaUy  parted  with  their  treasures  for  a  chance 
to  do  hfa  work  for  Wm.  Now  Tom  Sawyer  fa  the  sort  of 
nucrobe  you  must  have  b  your  sytbim  b  orier  to  attract 
the  rest.   And  it  is  you  yourself  — the  actual  yoa  that 
deliberates  and  acts -who,  by  the  zest  and  impetus  of 
tiiework  you  assign  to  them,  can  give  to  those  already  ea. 
nsted  this  triucqdiant  and  enticing  character. 

And  in  aB  thfa  upbuikfing  play  there  fa  the  element 
of  subordmation.  It  is  the  successful  foHowii^  of  soBie 
inner  leading  that  carries  its  credentials  in  its  face,  aHms 
entirely  remunerative,  infinitely  worth  while  for  its  own 


494  PLAY  IN  EDUCATION 

sake,  that  is  exhilarating.  It  may  seem  fantastic  to  trace 
the  presence  of  this  principle  in  the  foolish  plays  of  ex- 
treme weakness  like  the  breathing  game  -  though  the  god 
tades  even  there,  just  as  in  the  most  childish  of  the  exu- 
berant  plays.  But  in  the  play  of  the  hands  and  of  the  mind 
the  overruling  laws  of  science  and  art  become  visible  enough : 
whUe  the  play  of  the  eye  is  simply  the  pky  of  art  or  sci<mc^ 

•  1"  „     '"^^  P*"*"""  y**"  one.  »nd  to 

wond«  is  half  to  understand. 

I  wiU  not  undertake  to  show  the  use  as  medicine  of  every 
kmdofpky  I  have  indicated  some  of  the  diief  veins  that 
may  be  worked.  Of  hunting,  fighting,  and  nurture,  not 
spoken  of  above,  it  may  be  said  that  we  aU  know  the  thera- 
peutic value  of  going  fishing,  of  a  good  game  or  a  good  scrap ; 
whUe  having  some  living  thing  to  take  care  of,  if  it  is  only 
a  bird  or  a  geranium,  is  the  best,  and  fortunately  the  best 
understood,  prescription  for  keeping  aUnost  any  woman 
alive  and  well. 

There  are  certain  words  written  in  our  hearts  that  are  the 
mwter  words,  that  contain,  the  possibilities  of  life  for  us 
These  are  the  uWmates.  the  things  in  which  our  actual  life 
^nsists,  to  which  aU  other  vital  processes  ai«  tributary. 
Play  IS  obedience  to  these  master  words.  We  use  the  expres- 
sion   fuU  play"  for  a  thing  that  is  acting  as  nature  meant 

1      *.^n  P^*^'      ^^""'^'^  plays,  meaning  the 

^  fuffifls  its  function  in  the  world.  And  so  of  man. 
nay  18  the  word  that  best  covers  the  things  which  he  was 
wound  up  to  do,  in  the  doing  of  whid,  he  is  most  himself. 
It  IS  by  being  citizen,  nurturer,  poet,  creator,  scientist,  by 
actively  fiUing  out  the  ideal  waiting  for  him.  that  a  man 
can  win  or  save  his  life. 


INDEX 


Abd,  265.  441. 
Abelard,  439. 

Achieving  instincts,  tMFbqrinitincts. 

Achilles,  238,  293. 
Adornment,  399. 
iEscuIapius,  491. 
JEaop,  451. 

Ages,  the  four  ages  of  childhood, 
62-69. 

Aldrich,  Thomas  Bailey,  357. 
Alexander  the  Great,  238. 
Alice  in  Wonderland,  104. 
Amateur  in  art,  importaaee  of,  469- 
474. 

Amaions,  400,  408. 

America,  103,  201,  206,  387,  390,  416. 

American,  38,  60,  82,  198,  199,  201, 

206;    child,    138;    cities,  362; 

club  man,  180;   giri^  115.  402; 

parent,  183. 
Anaxagoras,  86. 

Animals,  128,  130 ;  tee  Nurture. 
ApoUo,  17,  261,  411.  491. 
Apparatus,  212  f. 

Apprentice  age,  423-432,  482,  460  f. 
Archimedes,  61,  247. 
Argonauts,  160. 
Aristotle,  61,  360. 
Arkwright,  265. 

Art,  151  f.,  163-165.  310.  307-400. 

416, 422, 467-470 ;  MS  laMilBation. 

Story-telling. 
Arthur,  King,  104, 302, 836. 886, 442. 
Asurbanipal,  447. 
Atalanta,  61,  394. 
Athenian,  327,  376,  389,  300. 
Athens,  389,  390,  405,  430,  446,  449, 

487 ;  modem,  334. 
AwlaB,  Jmm,  886. 

Babyhood,  62-106. 
BM«shua,  287.  418,  410. 


Baldwin,  327. 

Ball,  38,  91  f.,  206  f..  304  f.;  aw 
Baseball,  Badtet  bdl.  FooOmU. 

Hockey. 
Barbauld,  Mrs.,  315. 
Baseball,  1,  2,  38.  70  f.,  205,  206, 

281  f.,  319,  331  f.,  344,  414; 

beats  head-hunting,  467 ;  for  giila, 

393-395 ;  tee  Membership. 
Basket  baU,  206,  S19,  393.  305. 
Bayard,  Chevalier,  301,  802.  440. 
Beethoven,  164,  204. 
Belonging,  tee  Loyalty.  ManbanhiiH 

Teivm  play. 
Bentnam,  Jeremy,  448. 
Big  Injun  age,  65,  166-^18,  321-334 ; 

in  girls,  392,  394. 
Boston,  121,  154,  192,  100,  220,  232, 

352,  436. 
Boston  Common,  334,  352. 
Boy  Scouts,  363,  364. 
Boys'  Clubs,  364  f. ;  tee  Gang. 
Bright,  John,  447,  448. 
Brooks,  Phillipa.  235.  236. 
Browning,  Robert,  188. 470. 
Buddhism.  222. 
Buraa,  409. 


Cesar,  112,  158,  243,  86S,  478,  ^ 

Camp,  Walter,  30. 
Carlyie,  129,  324,  325. 
Cat  (game),  205,  206. 
Charlemagne,  372,  442. 
Chasing,  202-206,  303  f..  306,  466. 
Chesterton,  G.  Kn  S81. 
Chinese,  296. 

Chivalry,  238  f.,  260  f.,  301-303. 372  f.. 
440.  442.  446-451  :_«M  Bayard. 
Oalahad,  HorsA, 
Knights,  RoUad. 
Chopin,  151. 
Chriat,262. 


496 


INDEX 


Christianity,  222. 

Christmas.  115;  shop,  317;  to3r8,'292. 
Citizenship,  140-142,  336,  361-368 

380-391,428;  «ee  Membership. 
Civilization,  its  ideals  not  those  of 
children,  235-245;  ha.s  side-stepped, 
433-479;  should  make  place  for 
invalid,  4S6-489. 
Climbing,  207-209 ;  of  girls,  303. 396 
Clough,  488. 
Coasting,  209-211. 
Columbus,  103,  305. 
Competition,  186,  192,  328;  should 
be  preserved  in  industry,  402; 
tee  Fighting,  Games. 
Concord  Bridge,  388. 
Construction,  95-101,  127  f.,  177- 

aee  Creative  instinct. 
Cooperation.  462;  see  Membership. 
Creative  instinct,  13,  95-101,  452, 

455-7 ;  aee  Construction. 
Croswell,  James  G.,  429. 
Crothers,  Samuel  M.,  315. 
Curiosity    (instinctive    impulse  to 
know),  12,  13,  86,  108.  112  118  f 
122  f..  131.  170  f.,  172-185,  219  f  * 
261.  289-296;    «ee  ImaginaUon. 
InipenonatiaD,  Investigation. 


Deedalus,  51,  261,  327. 

Dancing.  143.  287  f..  397-399,  413 

415-422,  470.  474 ;  fdk  dancing, 

398;  war  dance,  161. 
Dante,  311. 

Darwin,  32,  89,  99,  203,  221, 338, 377. 
David,  491 ;  and  Jonathan,  406. 
De  Stafil,  Madame,  410. 
d'Este,  IsabeUa,  473. 
Demeter,  16. 

Diwia,  126,  210,  214,  261,  363,  400, 

Dickens,  68,  222,  356,  389. 
Discipline,  183  f.,  233  f. ;  »ee  Teach- 
ing. 

Disobedience,   moral   necessity  of, 
^  '0  f , 

Dolls,  1.  123.  126,  128;  see  Nurture 

Dooley,  Mr..  193. 

Dramatic  age,  65,  107-166,  320  f. 

Dramatics,  298  f.,  340,  363,  390 

Dreaming,  308-318. 

Drudgurj",  53  f.,  2C3-279. 

Duck  on  R  rock,  206. 


Eliot,  George,  405. 

Elisabeth,  Queen,  395,  473,  474- 
age  of,  460. 

Emerson.  80,  99,  137,  165,  173,  262 
271,  286,  289,  292,  304,  322,  372. 

England,  199,  222,  320,  450,  464,  467 

English,  212,  271,  299,  314,  330, 
339,  354 ;  authors,  389 ;  boarding 
schools,  196,  243,  268,  325,  372 
474 ;  game  laws,  447 ;  jokes,  356  ■ 
law,  448;  middle  class,  383 ;  officer 
347 ;  race,  376 ;  public  school,  475 ; 
village,  383. 

Epictetus,  451. 

Europe,  60,  103,  390,  484,  485. 
European,  93,  249 ;  society,  442. 
Evidence,  that  play  is  growth,  57-61. 
Exploration,  see  Investigation. 
Exuberant  play,  280-S^ 


Fairy  stories,  315-318. 
Falling,  207-211. 

Family,  tee  Father,  Home,  MothCT. 
Fanny's  First  Play,  417. 
Father,  71,  76,  79,  183,  827;  ue 

Nurture. 
Father  Jahn,  43,  314. 
Fighting.  193-201,  277,  279,  364, 

464-467.  494. 
Fishing,  see  Htmting. 
Florence,  388. 
Follen,  Eliza,  146. 

Football,  1,  206,  319.  336  f..  342,  344, 

346,  348  f. ;  see  Membership. 
Fox,  George,  422. 

French,  44,  68,  195,  205,  235,  271, 

367 ;  witticisms,  356. 
Froebel,  ix,  xii,  3,  63,  79,  93.  104, 

119,  122,  163,  172,  302,  327,  328. 

384,  432. 


Gulahad,  260,  306. 

Games,  126,  197,  200.  298.  328  f.; 

see  the  several  games  by  name. 
Gang,  350-380,  4%.  449. 
Garrison,  422. 

G»man,  201,  872,  398;  camp  ball, 
38;  dueling  societies,  373 ;  goods, 
387;  mark,  35S;  natiooaUty,  164; 
youth,  364. 

OemuuM,  164,  243.  314,  35fi,  3fi.s, 
372;  ancMQt,  354;  Herr  Groos. 
S:  upper dMM.  878. 


INDEX 


Gomuy,  43,  164.  109.  314,  387. 
Oiria,  es,  128,  »»-432.  47»-47A. 
Goethe,  13& 

OnMpinc,  «ee  Manipalstioii. 
Oreece,  389,  442. 

Greek.  39,  40,  54,  163,  333,  334.  437, 

442,  456,  457 ;  drama,  myth,  419 ; 

prooeaeional,  477. 
Graeka,  162,  163,  164,  287,  418.  419  • 

heUireiai,  372. 
Orooe.  Karl,  xii.  3,  9,  49,  60,  64. 126, 

143. 

Grown-ups.  70-73.  480-494. 
Growth,  fr-7,  19^,  67-«l;  and 

Guild  membership,  385-387. 
Giilfck,  L.  H.,  xu,  6.  206.  214,  270, 

3u4,  397. 
Gymnaatics,  42-47. 


Hsbit,  xiii,  22-26,  27-34.  36-41. 
Hall,  G.  Stanley,  177,  195.  301. 
Hamlet,  26,  312. 

Hmd,  28  f..  89  f. :  «M  C«Mttaetion, 

Msidpulstion. 
Harvard  CoUege,  473. 
Hawthorne,  Nathaniel,  383. 
Heidi,  306. 
Hephaiatua,  261. 

Herouka,  10, 198. 196,  207,  281,  327. 
Herodotiu,  45A 

Heioea  and  hero  worship,  316,  324- 
T,.?.^.L***  ®*«  Irtivii,  Chivalry. 
HiU  din,  198,  206,  297,  393.  395. 
Hockey,  206.  319,  393. 
Home.  121.  123.  132-137.  327  f.,  400, 
407;  we  Father.  Mother.  Nurture 
Homer,  376.  419. 
Hop  aooteh.  213. 
Horace.  39,  476. 
Horse.  128  f..  447.  448. 
Hughea,  Thranaa,  408. 
Hume,  185. 
Humpty  Duii4>ty,  77. 
Hungers,  xiii,  13-18. 
Hunt,  Lei^,  408. 
Hunting,  466  f.,  494 ;  <ee  Chasing. 


Impersonation,  296-303;  «e«  Dra- 
matic age. 

Impulse,  xiii,  and  jxutim. 

Indian,  36,  129,  130,  230.  800,  854: 
West  Coaat,  420. 

Indians,  128,  206,  290,  847,  872,  377. 
443,  464. 

Industrial  Training,  aae  An>nntice 

age. 

Industrial  work,  side  step  of,  from 
the  dirertion  of  instinctive  life,  433- 
445 ;  remedy  for,  446-479. 
Infancy,  5-12;  see  aUo  19-34.  62- 
70,  407. 

Instinct,    jriii,    13-18,    66-69,  and 
passim. 

Investigation,  175-185;     see  Curi- 
osity. 

Irish,  193,  350 ;  dance,  421. 

Irishman,  468,  484. 

Iroquois  tribe,  283. 

I  spy,  237,  296.  207,  414;  aaa  Raid- 
ing games. 

Italians,  163,  164,  411,  468;  Cinqu 
Cento,  450. 


Ideala,  254-262;  MC  Imagination. 
Imagmation,    140,    296-^18;  tee 

Oramatioage. 
Imitatiin,  36,  87.  111-116,  121-124 ; 

am  Hen  wocahip,  Impersonation. 
2x 


James,  William.  18,  67.  110.  126, 
140.  182,  286.  406;  Fkyeliology. 

Japan,  210,  377,  465. 
Jessel,  Sir  George,  369. 
Jesuit,  39. 
Jews,  360. 

Johnson,  Oeoiie  E.,  xii.  37,  88, 

182. 

Josephus  and  B<Auiik«,  150. 
Juliet,  406. 
Jump  rope,  218. 

Kant,  18,  185,  262. 
Kemble,  Fanny,  416,  474. 
Keyser,  63,  98. 
Kindergarten,  66.  138.  313. 
Kipling.  Rudyard.  118, 170. 381. 343, 

355,  464,  490. 
Kirschensteiner,  Dr.,  387. 
Knights,  119,  302,  440,  442;  of  the 
Round  Table,  373;   see  Bayard, 
Chivalry,  Horse,  Launcelot. 
Koran,  424. 
Kreutaer  Sonata,  417. 
Kropotkin,  417. 
Kuttenberg,  446. 


498 


INDEX 


Lamb,  Charles,  315, 464. 
Language,  77  f. 
Last  of  the  Mohicans,  300. 
Latin,  163,  103,  267,  268,  475. 
Launcelot,  127,  239,  303,  307,  336. 
Lawbreaking,    228-245;    »ee  aUo 
Gang. 

Leadership,  aee  Teaching. 

Leech,  John,  448. 

Lincoln,  24,  104,  119,  286,  390. 

London,  389,  468. 

London  Bridge,  296,  389. 

Lorna  Doone,  409. 

Loyalty,  66,  368,  319-479;  of  girls, 

/^00  f . ;  t«e  Membairirip. 
Luther,  162. 

Maine,  Sir  Henry,  456. 
Malory,  Sir  Thomas,  194.  199. 
Manipulation,  84-94,  455  f. 
Mars,  195,  214,  261,  406. 
Marseillaise,  162. 

Maaiaohusetts,  minute  men,  372; 
reform  school,  225 ;  training  ship, 
188. 

Maternal  instinct,  see  Nurture. 
Maanni,  439. 

Membership,  13,  132-142,  159-163, 

184,  319-891,  423-432,  459  f. 
Meariah,  202. 

MkUOe  Ages,  389,  395.  419,  464. 
Milton,  163,  388. 

Mind,  31-34,  492  f. ;  sm  Instinot. 
Minerva,  261. 

Mischief,  169,  171,  182-185. 
Mother  and  mother  play,  37,  72, 

74-83,  133. 
MoUier  Qooee,  146,  151. 
Murray,  Sir  Gilbert,  419. 
Muscular  Christianity,  408,  467. 
Muses,  160,  288,  317,  418,  473. 
Music,  98.  314  f.,  367,  399.  419,  468, 

470,  474,  402 ;  ms  Art,  Rhythm. 
Myths,  316-318. 

Napoleon,  32,  484. 
Nature,  ziii,  and  pataim. 
Nature,  Purpose  of,  ziii,  and  patim. 
Nausicaa,  38,  394. 
Negroes,  347,  468. 
Nd^borhood,  380-385. 
'  NeweU.  W.  W.,  60,  206,  396. 
New  England,  200. 


New  Testament,  61.  ISi. 
Newton,  305. 
Nimrod,  238,  442. 
Nirvana,  155. 

Nurture,  13,  76,  217-227.  405.  480. 

494. 

Odysseus,  172,  353. 
Olmsted,  F.  L.,  491. 
Olympic  games,  348. 
O'Rell,  Max,  44,  271. 
Orpheus,  160,  309. 
O'Triner,  Sir  Lueius,  28& 

Psestum,  389. 
Pallas  Athene,  261. 
Parthenon,  389,  487. 
Pasteur,  368. 

Patriotism,  see  CitiaaBsh^,  IfegabM^ 

ship. 

Pegasus,  68,  114,  310,  400. 

Persian,  442. 

Persona,  139,  161,  351. 

Personality,  280-288 ;  corporate, 
332  f.,  347,  366;  of  the  conmtu- 
nity,  321,  387-391 ;  of  the  gang, 
351 ;  of  the  ring,  139-141 ;  of  the 
school,  367;  of  the  team,  336- 
344,  346 ;  sec  Big  Injun,  Monbefw 
ship. 

Peter  Rabbit,  113. 
Phidias,  98,  391. 

Philippines,  head4iUBtinc  in*  467. 

Pickwick,  333. 

Pico  della  Mirandola,  450. 

Plato,  16,  138.  238,  382,  385,  391, 
418,  424. 

Play,  ziii,  and  paisim. 

Play  instincts,  ziii,  6-25;  tee  Ap- 
prentice age,  Chasing,  Climbing. 
Construction,  Creative  instinct. 
Curiosity,  Fighting,  Girls,  Hun- 
gers, Impersonation,  Manipula- 
tion, Membership,  Nurture, 
Reason,  Rhythm,  Running  away. 
Striking,  Team  play.  Throwing 
at  a  mark.  Walking,  Wielding. 

Playground  Association  of  America, 
37. 

Plunkett,  Sir  Horace,  386. 
Plutarch,  112. 

Polities,  as  an  ezpression,  4/4  f.; 
tm  Mwiilw  Jilii 


INDEX 


490 


Priaoners'  base.  206,  296,  393,  414 
Ptalms.  150. 
Puffer,  J.  Adams,  350. 
Punch,  182. 
Puritans,  418.  473. 
Purposeful,  254-262.  286-288;  play 
purposeful.  246-253;  subdues 
drudgery.  275  f. 
Puss  in  the  comer,  198. 
PotDam.  Or.  Juan  J..  487.  488. 


Quaken,  104. 

Raids  and  ratdinc  aaiBM.  347  f 
362  f.,  459. 

Raleigh,  278. 

Raphael,  61. 

Reason,  ix-xii,  18,  262. 

Recapitulation,  theory  of,  64  f. 

Reflexes,  20 ;  acquired  reflexes  sup- 
plement the  instincte,  22-25,  30  f 
36:  Habit. 

Rembrandt.  126. 

^auiamaM.   68.    160.    183.  164. 
207. 

Blvthm,  14»-lfl6.  287  f.,  416-121, 
467. 

Richter,  Jean  Paul.  314. 
Ring  around  a  rosy,  tee  Ring  games. 
Ring  lusea,  139-141, 148. 168, 320  f. 
RoUn  Hood.  306. 

RobinKm  (>uaoe,  66. 
Rob  Roy.  288. 
Rcdaad.  193,  303. 
RoUo  books,  315. 

Roman,  38,  64,  474;    law,  456; 

lawyers,  369;  master,  437;  pr©- 

ton,  466. 
Romans,  395. 

Rome,  112,  376,  300,  478,  487. 
Romeo,  406. 

Rooeevelt,  Theodore,  442.  404. 
Royce.  349,  368,  388. 
Rugby.  346;  see  FootbaU. 
Rumbold.  Charlotte,  299. 

«Hl  ruanin,  .w^,  .„ 

RuaUB,4«2. 


St  Augustine.  231. 

372,878. 
St  Itenofa.  432. 
Samurai,  877. 


Saa,  336,  241, 


Sand,  84  f..  91-98.  301. 
Sand  garden,  sand  pUe.  see  Sand. 
Santa  Claus.   123.   167;    and  tm 
96. 

Sargent,  Dr.  Dudley  A..  308. 
Saul,  491,  492. 
SctBvola,  Mutius,  390. 
Schiller,  164. 

Schools,  366-368 ;  see  Teaching. 
vScotch,  368;  ballads,  409,  421. 
Scott,  Sir  Walter,  68,  112,  377.  400 
492.  • 
Self-assertion,  see  Big  Injun  age. 
Sentimental  Tommy,  187,  302. 
Sex,  preference.  123 ;  see  OMa. 
Shakespeare.  112.  124,  146.  300.  313 

400,  406,  407,  421.  470. 
Shaw,  G.  Bernard,  238.  883. 
Sherman,  337. 
Sidney,  Sir  Philip,  460. 
Sistine  Madonna,  61. 
Skating,  210,  213,  398  f. 
Smith,  Wayland,  61,  261. 
Soccer,  346 ;  tee  Football. 
Social,  182-185,  mischief  a  social  test ; 
play  of  the  dramatic  age,  132-142  '• 
power  of  rhythm,  16^166;  m 
Apprentice  age,  CiviliMtion.  Rat- 
ing, Girls.  Loyalty.  Membenh^. 
Mother  pbqr,  Nnitam,  Teaddag. 
Work. 

Soldier,  123,  302,  443;  ms  War. 
Sparta,  370,  487. 
Spartacus,  451. 
Spartans,  195,  243,  370,  410. 
Specializing,  423  f.,  426  f. 
Spencer,  Herbert,  60. 
Stecher,  William  A.,  346. 

^*300°357  ^  ^'  *  286. 
Stoic,  456. 

Story  telling,  306  f.,  316-818. 
Striking.  14.  88.  205-207. 
Subordination.  264,  267  f. ;  play  im- 
plies subordination,  283. 
Suevi,  366. 

Sunday,  467.  476-479. 
SuperviaiM,  tte  Teaching. 
Surplus  energy,  play  theory  of,  00  t. 
Swunming,  396  f . 
Swinging,  148-161.  208. 
Swings,  212. 
SyraboUnn.  113,  314. 


500 


INDEX 


Tacitus,  383. 
Tag,  tee  Chasing. 
Tartarin,  302. 

Teaching.  183  f..  215-217,  296,  331  f. ; 
artistic,  etc.,  469  f . ;  implied  in 
play  instincts,  35-41 ;  industrial, 
425-427,  453  f  ,  460  f. ;  of  Big 
Injuns  by  bigger  boys,  324-327. 

Team  play.  319,  335-349,  351  f. ; 
of  girls,  400-402 ;  aec  Membership. 

Teasing,  143  f. 

Thackeray,  16,  424. 

Thor,  195,  261. 

Thrpo-doep,  198.  206. 

Thring,  Edward,  212. 

Throwing  at  a  mark,  205-207. 

Tolstoi,  220. 

Tomboys.  392  f.,  401  f.,  408. 
Tom  Brown,  227,  306. 
Tom  Sawyer.  306,  493. 
Tools,  8»-91.  180-182. 
Toys,  not  too  many,  292  f. ;  see 
Dolls. 

Trade,  see  Apprentice  age,  Civiliia- 
tion.  Guild  membership.  Industrial 
training,  Industrial  work. 

Trapc«e,  212. 

TroUope,  Anthony,  492. 

Turn  Vereins,  43,  209,  314 

Twain,  Mark,  173. 

ValhalU,  368. 


Valley  Forge,  38& 
Venice.  229,  230. 
Venus,  405,  413. 
Vestal  Virgins,  473. 
Vikings,  238,  266,  348. 
Vision,  308-318. 
Voielweide,  Walther  tob 


dm,  996. 


Walking,  102-106. 

WallM,  Orahun,  322. 

Wsinu  and  the  Carpenter,  150. 

War,  123;  subntitutea  for,  466  f. 

MS  Fighting. 
Washington,  Booker,  468. 
Washington,  George,  119,  138,  328 

366. 

West  Point,  201,  373. 
Whiatler.  126. 
Widdiiic.88. 

William  the  CoiuiueiDr,  447. 
Wodin,  262. 

Work,  xiil,  48-66,  427-432;  re- 
stores, 486-^;  ft  Civfliaation, 
Drudcery,  laduatrial  teaiaiog,  I» 
dustrial  Work. 

Yale,  370,  487. 
Y.  M.  C.  A..  40& 

Zeus,  214,  263. 
Zulua,  347. 


'pHE  following  pages  ccntab  idmtiwineBU 
of  MacmiOan  boob  on  kindred  (dbjectt 


■BCniT  IDDCATIOIIAl  FOBUCAllOm 

Education  Through  Play 

Br  HENRY  S.  CURTIS.  Ph.D. 

Former  SMMwjr  of  The  PUvground  Auociation  of  America  tad  Suptrvtaw 
£Tte  nmaoBdi  oftbe  Dbtrict  of  Columbia:  Anittor  of  "Pn.tforiSZ 

Edrntitthnml  S4HiUm 

EAuathn  Thrtugk  Play  k  intended  especially  for  teacben  and 

students  of  education  who  are  interested  in  the  education  and 
development  of  children  through  play.  The  book  aims  specifically 
to  deal  with  the  various  problems  of  play  that  present  tbemielves 
in  tfie  puUic  school  system.  Thcie  fwoblens  it  ondiiMa  fi%  and 
shows  the  methods  by  which  tbejr  may  be  sotved  — titfiwiorily 
under  various  school  conditions. 

The  fondamental  ammption  fai  die  book  ii  that,  as  pUy  is  a 
necessity  to  a  wholesome  childhood,  the  opportunity  for  it  should 
be  offered  to  every  child,  and  that  more  and  more  the  conduct  <rf 
play  is  to  become  one  of  the  regular  activities  in  all  schools. 


The  Practical  Conduct  of  Play 

By  HENRY  S.  CURTIS,  Ph.D. 

CkA,  tamtam. 

Those  who  have  to  do  with  the  oiganisatioii  of  play,  whether  at 

parents,  teachers,  playground  directors,  or  supervisors,  will  find  in 
Tlu  PracHcal  Conduct  of  Play  definite  detailed  information  that 
can  easily  be  used  and  helpfully  applied  to  the  solution  of  play 
problems. 

The  PracHcal  Conduct  of  Play  points  out  general  fwiadplet ; 
gives  practical  direcHon  and  indicates  ways  by  which  {di^Nfiiid' 
•ctifitiet  may  be  broag.it  to  a  high  stand  of  dfciency. 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

FubUihan        64-**  flflk  Avwm        Kcw  TsA 

onoaeo     Boarov     aaa  nuaonoo     nauas  Atimu. 


By  WILLIAM  CHANDLER  BAGLEY 


OAltSDUuiihip  in  Teaching 


Craftsmanship  in  rtaikiHgA\wLvmn  tht  wriout  woblems  of  educa 
tion  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  cnfksMk  It  discuwes  the  under- 
lying principles  of  the  crjrfl  and  dMn  MMiiing  mav  be  regarded 
craftsmanship.  Eac^<  -ha^f  r  traato  a  »pMMc  problem  m  edaicatioa 
and  each  problem  is  uliy  mitl  n*  d  and  dliCMMld  la  we  Mgit  of  oumM- 
ous  and  concrete  inslani  es  Tiiis  book  \kj%  %m  JNMlQg  taatMT  a 
foundation  for  ideal  scrv  ice  la  education. 

CluHoem  MMMienent 

Cloth,  i2mo,xvu  ■\- 33i  f'tgts, 

Classroom  ManagemtHt  considers  the  various  problen»  that  arise 
from  the  effort  to  instruct  childrer  jjether  ,  mass- s  It  analyzes 
these  problems  and  discovers  for  t;  teache-.  thf  i>-  iciples  of  class 
management.  It  gives  to  the  teacher  a  thorough  uii^  rstandmg  of  the 
ways  and  means  of  managing  tte  class  or  unit  group  ot  the  school 
system. 

The  Educative  Process 

CUk,  tsm,  xix  +  3sS  pagis,  %r^S 

The  Educative  Process  aims  to  prevent  a  waste  of  «^gy  on  ^e  jart 
of  the  young  teacher  by  setting  forth  a  systematic  afld  coinpi^eMlve 
view  of  the  task  that  is  to  be  accomplisiied  by  the  sdKwl.  It  diicaasei 
the  working  principles  by  which  the  purposes  of  the  school  are  to  be 
attained. 

School  Discipline 

CloOi,  i3mo,  xiv  +  asQ  Pagn,  $/ 

School  DiscipUm  is  a  comprehensive  treatmen-  of  that  part   ■  sc 
managonent  which  is  concerned  with  the  conduc  of  children  in  sc! 
The  treatment  presents  the  individual  and  the  social  sides  <rfsco_  ! 
disc^ine  and  comprehensively  vuSatm  tiw  medMcb  hf  whlA  maa- 
jdfaN  is  sneeessiully  «^taiaed. 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

Pablisbsrs        M-M  Fifth  Avannt        rew  York 
cmcaoo      Bono>      aav  vbaicimo      oallas  atlasia 


KBCBIfT  EDUCAT  JNAt  PUBLICATIOITS 

How  to  Teach  American  Hittoiy 

iV  JOHN  W    WAYLAND.  ^hD. 

ftoj^r  of  .  ^  sdwce.  Su,.  Normal  Scho  1,  Harri«,„bu,. 

seem  .  thing  c       to  hi.  }  a  '  '» 

Pnncipies  ind  I^,  Conmiercial 

lUluca  on 

fHsitof  8i.fc„^,      „^   ^^^^      j^^^  Nc  York. 

dat    p='^^       '^i<^«-'^r"^'^«^'^/i«ri»  a  practical,  p-to- 

new  -^S^lL    T       ?°'y  »he  subjects  usually  taueht  omU 
new  :^a^  ^'  J^^^jms  in  the  elementary  schoSi  L  Srt 
th    ifbTm;*!     '?!.^?,,^*'"^''i.'Mho«»  the  elements  in  e.  ^ 
Ae    3»L^      f°^'bu  e  effective  business  training.  U. 
SLJS^,;  ^.nd  the  departure,  in  the  t^in^ 

"^tt.   at  ive  in  the  production  of  MtiS^tr 

a  Appreciation 

JLL;''  ^k''*^ ^'^'^  HAYWARD.  B.Sc..  D.LlT., 
^SsS.    dtt^••"%^:^l°^S.Tr•^^^^^   England:  Author  of 

lok  is  ^BfvmLi  -uu  eojtea  by  Wl  •  ><  Chand  er  Baelev.  The 
?y      T^**^  '^'""^     literaturTan^d  art^o 

-npHcai       ti^S  tT^"°f  j''^  preparation,  the  presentation,  ad  tbS 

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A  Cyclopedia  of  Education 

Edited  by  PAUL  MONROE,  Ph.D. 

ProfcMor  of  the  Hirtory  of  Education.  TeKhen  CoUeg^  Columbia  Uni- 
vei»»T :  Author  of "  A  Text  Book  in  the  Hittorr  of  Edmcatioa, 
"Britf  ConiM  in  the  Hiitocy  of  Education,"  etc. 

The  need  of  such  work  is  evidenced:  by  the  great  maM  of  varied 
edacational  literature  ihowing  an  equal  range  in  educational  practice  and 
theory;  by  the  growing  importance  of  the  school  as  a  social  institution, 
and  the  fuUer  recognition  of  education  as  a  social  process;  and  by  the 
great  increase  in  the  number  of  teachera  and  the  iwtaMUqr  of  tenure 
which  at  the  same  tioM  narka  the  profeiaion. 

The  men  who  need  it  are:  all  teachers,  professional  men,  editors, 
n^inisters,  legislators,  all  public  men  who  deal  with  large  questions  of 
public  welfare  intimately  connected  with  education— erery  one  who  ap- 
predatea  the  value  of  a  reference  work  which  will  give  him  the  outlines 
of  any  educational  problem,  the  suggested  solutions,  the  statistical  infor- 
mation,  and  in  general  the  essential  fiicta  necesaary  to  its  comprehenalon. 

Among  the  departmental  Editors  associated  with  Dr.  Monroe  are  Dr. 
Ehner  E.  Brown,  Prerident  New  York  Univeiaity;  Prof.  E.  F.  Buchner, 
of  Johns  Hopkins;  Dr.  Wm.  H.  Burnham,  Oark  University;  M.  Gabriel 
Compayrfe,  Inspector-General  of  Public  Instruction,  Paris,  France;  Plot 
WilheUn  Munch,  of  Beriin  Univerrity,  Germany;  Prof,  John  Dewejr,  <rf 
Columbia  University;  Dr.  Ellwood  P.  Cubberly.  SUnford  University,  Cal. ; 
Prof.  Foster  Watson,  of  the  University  CoUege  of  Wales;  Dr.  David 
Snedden,  Conuniaaioner  of  Education  for  the  State  of  Maianchwetta;  and 
other*. 


iRjfw  kam  tamo  webmu,  mc*  SS.00 


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